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The Swoop of the Week 

OR 

The Treasure at “Ma’s Legacy” 


By 

LOUISE JACKSON STRONG 



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JENNINGS AND GRAHAM 
'^orfe: 

EATON AND MAINS 



COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY 'N 

JENNINGS AND GRAHAM 


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CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

I. The Mysterious Attack, . . 5 

II. The Charge of Taurus, . . 23 

III. The Vote. Thursday Wins, . . 35 

IV. The Battle of the Bantams, . 45 

V. At Ma’s Legacy, . . . .55 

VI. The Swoop on the Weeds, . 66 

VII. The Question of the Treasure, . 77 

VIII. A Flurry and a Disappointment, 87 

IX. Thursday Finds a Corner Stone, . 97 

X. “If You Meet a Crippled Bro- 

ther,” 107 

XI. The Evaporated Pants, . .118 

XII. “The Bandits! The Bandits!” . 130 

XIII. “Skidooed Again!” .... 143 

XIV. A Midnight Marauder, . . 155 

XV. Alexander “Butts in” Again, . 168 

XVI. A “Clue” and a Disappearance, 179 

XVII. What had Happened to Thursday, 193 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

XVIII. “You Didn’t, Old Fellow! Say 

You Didn’t!” ... 207 

XIX. “That’s What I Think, Mum!” . 220 

XX. The “Scoop of the Sneak,” . 233 

XXI. A Credit to His Ancestors, . . 244 

XXII. On the Trail of the Treasure, 258 

XXIII. “Where ’s My Old Fiddle! She ’ll 

Say it!” .... 268 

XXIV. The Search for the Cave, . .281 

XXV. What the Spot on the Clue 

Meant 295 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

OR 

The Treasure at “Ma’s Legacy” 


CHAPTER I 

THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 

“Whoop-la !’’ yelled Thursday, shaking the lines, 
with his foot on the brake, as the wagon skidded 
down the short pitch at the end of the hill. 
“Whoop-la! Give ’em dust, old fellows!” 

The horses pranced across the bottom, toss- 
ing their heads and rolling their eyes at the 
four boys running neck and neck with them, two 
on a side. Saturday had scudded ahead and 
faced them, howling his triumph, as boys and 
horses struck the bridge together. At every hill 
all the boys, but one to drive and little Sunday, 
had run, with the horses, down and up, in a 
make-believe race that the animals seemed to 
enjoy as much as did the boys. This was their 
last hill, however, for they had reached the turn- 
ing-off place, and were going down the wide 
valley along the river. 


5 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘‘Want to get in?” the driver asked, pulling 
up. 

‘‘No, no! Race you on the home-stretch!” 

The team dashed across the long bridge and 
wheeled into the dim old road to the left, the 
laughing, shouting convoy of boys cavorting 
around the wagon, wildly enthusiastic that their 
goal was almost reached. 

“Whoa-up ! Yonder ’s our gate-post ;” Thurs- 
day drew up, pointing to a high, bold bluff on 
the opposite side of the river, around which the 
deep water curved sharply, spreading in broad, 
rippling shallows to the low bank near them; 
“here’s our line; and we’ve about half a mile 
of woods to cut loose in. Come on, let ’s camp 
away down the river, out of sight and hearing 
of everybody.” 

“And now we ’ve arrived, look out for fines,” 
Monday warned. 

On this side of the river the hills swept back, 
leaving a wide, timbered bottom or valley, 
through which the dim road meandered for a 
while, then lost itself entirely, and Thursday 
guided the horses about among the trees and 
scrub until they finally came out in heavy, scat- 
tering timber with grassy opens. 

“Yonder ’s a fine place for the camp,” Monday 

6 


THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 


pointed to a sunny glade with great trees like 
sentinels around it. 

^‘Beat you to it !” Thursday dared, recklessly 
setting the horses off at a gallop. And away 
they went again, the covered wagon creaking 
and swaying, the boys doing their best to beat 
it now, and tumbling upon the spot in a heap, 
a few feet ahead of the horses, stopping them so 
suddenly that they almost sat down. 

‘‘The old fellows are just grinning over 
the fun,'’ Wednesday said, stroking a heaving 
flank. 

“They know a good time when they see it," 
Thursday laughed, “and their vacation begins 
now, as soon as they pull the wagon to one side. 
This is a boss spot!" 

“Right O !" exclaimed Monday, “and I ’ll 
clear a place down to fresh earth in the middle 
of the open here, so our fire won’t get away into 
the woods. We’ve all got to hustle if we get 
fixed up by supper time." 

There were seven of the boys, neighbors and 
schoolmates, and they called themselves the Week 
of Boys, each one being named for a day of 
the week. Delicate little six-year-old Danny 
Westover, their mascot, and the only one of them, 
they said, that was good enough for the day, was 

7 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


Sunday; his brother Harvey, a few weeks over 
eighteen and a couple of months the oldest of the 
Week, was Monday. The others followed ac- 
cording to their ages, ending with the two smaller 
boys, of thirteen and half past eleven, for Friday 
and Saturday. They always used their week-day 
names when they remembered to, getting lots of 
fun from the surprise of people at the odd names, 
and the eager curiosity of other boys, which they 
never enlightened. 

They had no rule about it, though, until this 
camping trip, when they passed a law that as 
soon as they had crossed the line of their own 
particular bit of country, a tract of wild land of 
considerable extent, belonging to Thursday’s 
uncle, the failure to use the week-day names 
entailed a fine of a nickel for each and every 
offense. They had been practicing all the way, 
a two days’ drive, and had become so used to 
the names there seemed little chance of getting 
anything in the way of fines in the bank they 
had brought along. 

It was past three, and lots to do before sup- 
per time, but with sq many willing workers they 
got the tent up, bunks fixed for sleeping, and 
dishes and provisions arranged for housekeeping 
in time to do a good deal of cooking before dark. 

8 


THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 


They were hungry enough to eat anything by 
that time, for they had stopped for only a cold 
lunch at noon ; and all four of the big boys went 
to cooking, each in his own way. Thursday 
slung the dinner pot over the coals, opened a 
couple of cans of soup, peeled a quantity of pota- 
toes, and set it all stewing; Tuesday put potatoes 
to roast. in the hot ashes; Monday cut thick slices 
of bacon, which the three small boys toasted on 
long, sharpened sticks, squatting beside the fire; 
and Wednesday got out the old-fashioned Dutch 
oven they had along to do their baking in, and 
put to bake what he called a scalded meal pone; 
and they all declared that however their cooking 
turned out as to quality, there was sure to be 
enough of it. Supper was well under way, siz- 
zling, bubbling, and smoking, when a boy about 
the size of Friday passed, driving a cow, and 
staring at them curiously. 

‘‘See anything green?’’ Friday yelled. 

“Plenty! ’Specially that row of toads,” the 
boy retorted. 

“It is to laugh,” Friday screeched, good- 
humoredly; “come an’ have some.” 

“Can’t. Milkin’ time;” the boy looked back 
longingly as he disappeared. 

“Milk !” Monday exclaimed, and seizing a tin 

9 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


bucket, rushed after the boy. He was gone some 
time, and came back with a sober face, set the 
milk on the oilcloth spread for a table, and glanced 
dubiously at the big boys without speaking. 

‘‘Well, spit it out ! Something ’s up — unpleas- 
ant neighbors?” Thursday said. “Anyway, it’s 
nothing to us ; we ’re on our own property.” 

“It ’s nice neighbors ! — ^fine ones ! — only — 
they ’re in hard luck — worst kind of luck, and — 
well, I ’ve got a job up there.” 

“Wha-at !” the boys roared in chorus. 

“That ’s the way I feel, too,” Monday smiled 
ruefully, “but it ’s a fact, and no getting out 
of it.” 

Then, while they gaped in astonishment, he 
explained that the man at the farmhouse on the 
hill had been helpless with a crippled leg for 
months — that there was no one to do anything 
on the place but the boy with the cow, and a 
girl older — ^that the family had nothing to live 
on only what they raised — and that they would n’t 
raise much of anything, from the looks, but 
weeds, as they had no means to hire help — 

“And you offered yourself and the rest of 
us!” Thursday burst in. “Not any for me, 
thank you!” 

“We could do it in a week or so, and give 
lo 


THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 


only half the day, if the Week would all pitch 
in,’’ Monday said. 

The end of the Week fellows howled angry 
remonstrance and defiant negatives to this. 

‘‘Look here, old man,” Thursday said, when 
the storm had subsided, “what ’re we out after, 
anyway?” 

“Fun.” 

“What’s all this for?” indicating the camp 
with a flourish. 

“Fun.” 

“What ’ve we been working like dogs for, 
getting ready, and on the road, and ever since 
we landed on the spot?” 

“Fun,” Monday replied for the third time. 

“O! I thought you’d forgotten the object 
of this little expedition. Well, I ’m chasing that 
object, and mean to keep up the chase, that ’s 
all. Hear me !” Thursday flung wide his hands 
and dropped back on the grass. 

“Yes, fun ’s the object, all right,” Monday 
agreed, “and we ’ve been having it straight along 
from the first pop of the idea. ‘Working like 
dogs,’ hey ? Why, we ’ve wallowed in fun for 
a month, planning and getting ready ; and waded 
in fun up to our necks on the road, and every 
minute since we swooped down on our camp 


II 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


ground. So boys?” he looked about grinning 
at the memory of their sport — the boys, a little 
sulkily, grinning in response. 

‘‘Wallowed and waded 's all right — we did! 
But we Ve just got ready for the best fun yet,” 
Wednesday grumbled. 

“That ’s so, and we ’ll have it, too, and tuck 
in that little job up there at the same time, and 
hardly know it. But remember, nobody has to 
do it — you ’re all free men ; I ’m just asking for 
volunteers,” Monday said, sitting down with the 
other big boys, who seemed to have forgotten 
the waiting supper in the unexpected proposition 
they were considering. 

“Said that girl was plowing, didn’t you?” 
Tuesday asked. 

“Nope; said she was trying to. There’s a 
heap of difference, even to my green orbs,” Mon- 
day replied. 

“Green to the ways of the plowshare, under- 
stand, fellows. Green ’s a libel applied to his 
azure-violet glims,” Tuesday laughed. 

“They ’re blue moons, all right !” exclaimed 
Saturday, who was hanging head down from a 
tall sapling bent towards the fire. 

“You ’ll spill off into the soup,” little Sunday 
giggled. 


12 


THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 


‘‘Be the best soup you ever tasted, if I did, 
kiddie. But I want mine on the inside, and I 
• want it now Saturday vaulted over the fire 
and scuttled to the cloth, where supper waited. 

“Aw, come along, you fellows, or we ’ll eat 
without you!” Friday called impatiently, begin- 
ing to ladle the soup into the granite plates. 
Everybody instantly scrambled to their places, and 
Monday poured the coffee and milk. 

“O, but this is IT, all right!” Tuesday de- 
clared, looking around at the darkening forest, 
the cozy tent, the horses munching their oats, and 
the boys bolting their supper. “It ’s IT, for sure! 
A tent in the wilderness, and nothing to do. 
Do n’t ask me to go to work, Monday, old man,” 
he begged. Monday patted his shoulder, but was 
watching Wednesday, who had suddenly begun 
making passes over the bucket of milk, muttering 
deep incantations. It was very impressive and 
mysterious. 

“What ’re you doing, Billy?” Monday asked, 
with much interest. 

“Nickel! nickel! nickel! First fine!” all the 
rest yelled; and Wednesday held out one hand, 
keeping up the passes with the other. Consid- 
erably plagued at making the break, Monday 
handed over a coin, and unthinkingly repeated the 

13 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

blunder, demanding, “But what are you doing, 
Billy? 

“Nickel! nickel! nickel!’’ they roared again, 
again Wednesday extended a hand, received an- 
other coin, and dropped them both into the iron 
pig in the middle of the cloth. 

“All right,” Monday laughed ; “your turn ’ll 
come. Now explain the finger antics.” 

Wednesday held both hands over the milk, 
wiggling his fingers violently, saying: “I’m 
whizzy-swiggling the ancestors of that brindle 
cow that trailed by with a wall-eyed manikin 
in her wake. If that procession had not passed, 
we ’d been free and happy still — but alas ! we all 
know what a sticking-plaster old Monday is, and 
that job’ll be did — or done. We’re in for it! — 
for Tuesday has to follow Monday — if you do n’t 
believe it, look at the almanac — and Wednesday 
must follow Tuesday as surely as Thursday — ” 

“No sir! not a bit of it! not the least, little 
bit of it!” Thursday interrupted. “Your week ’s 
going to be minus one day — T-h-u-r-s-d-a-y ! 
Hear!” 

“I do n’t know what the calendar ’ll do to 
you, young man, leaving a hole in the middle 
of it,” Wednesday laughed, “but Friday, our ever- 
loving-and-giving, comes — ” 

14 


THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 


‘‘Here's the giving/' Friday snorted, angrily, 
pouncing upon Wednesday and pounding him 
with a hard and knuckly fist. “Here 's the giv- 
ing, an' it 's what you 'll get every time you hand 
out that ‘lovin' ' rot! I 'm your man Friday, all 
right, but I '11 be whizzy-swiggled if I 'll take the 
other." 

“Nufif said, you hornet ; you do n't deserve the 
other," Wednesday apologized to Friday; “but 
you seem to have enlisted with this band of bold 
knights, who are going forth to the rescue of a 
fair maid and her family, and together I guess 
we two can stretch across the vacancy left by our 
old sour-and-sad." 

“And Saturday, as he must work-for-his- 
living — " 

“Not always," Saturday interrupted Monday ; 
“I 'm a vacation sometimes, an' this 's one of 'em," 
and he rolled over close to the fire and kicked up 
his heels. 

“Vacation on eatin', too?" asked little Sun- 
day. 

“Nit! — always eat more vaca — Ouch!" Sat- 
urday bounced up, demanding, “Who 's pepperin' 
me?" 

“Friday keeps the pepper," Wednesday 
laughed; “has he been handing it to you?" 

15 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

Friday, who was swallowing the last of his 
cup of milk, dropped the tin with a splash, but 
instead of the attack Wednesday expected, shook 
his hand violently, echoing Saturday’s howl. 

“What’s the matter with you fellows?” 
Monday asked. “Have we camped on a bees’ 
nest?” 

“Friday ’s swizzy-whiggling,” little Sunday 
snickered, tangling the ridiculous word, then im- 
mediately he began to dance, shrieking, “My knee ! 
my knee!” Monday took him up and, rolling 
back the stocking, found a small red blotch on 
the soft little knee; Saturday exhibited the same 
mark on his skinny shank ; it was the same 
on Friday’s bare wrist, only redder and bigger. 

“Couldn’t be the fire, and the stockings not 
burned,” Monday commented; “and no kind of 
bees fly and sting at night, do they. Professor?” 
he asked of Tuesday. 

“Not any I ’ve interviewed in my chase after 
Nature;” as Tuesday spoke, he bent to look at 
the mark on Friday’s wrist, and collided with 
Wednesday, who had clapped his hand to his 
neck and bounced up, exclaiming: 

“Whe-ew! got it in the neck myself! Sorry 
I banged into you, old fellow.” 

Tuesday rubbed his bumped jaw, and stared 

i6 


THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 


reflectively at the spot just made on Wednes- 
day's neck, saying: 

‘‘Something flashed past my face as I bent 
over; it 's curious.” 

“Curious! Well I should say!” Monday ex- 
claimed, somewhat anxiously. “It 's more — ” 

“Say!” yelled Thursday in the excitement of 
discovery, “it all came from this side! — Satur- 
day's leg, Friday's wrist, Sunday's knee, Wednes- 
day's neck, all turned this way!” 

“That 's so ! Somebody out there ! Come 
on !” Monday leaped a box and tore off towards 
a plum thicket that made a denser blackness in 
the woods beyond the firelight. They all tumbled 
after him hastily, little Sunday squealing with 
fright. 

“Here, boys, wait !” Monday stopped as sud- 
denly as he had started. “Be still! — listen!” 

Every boy stood like a statue, holding his 
breath, little Sunday clutching Monday's coat with 
one hand and keeping the squeal in with the 
other. 

“What 'd you hear?” Wednesday whispered 
stridently, when it seemed they could not bear 
it another second. 

“Nothing,” Monday replied in low tones, as 
they crowded close, “but I happened to think 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


if anybody was close enough to pop us like that, 
they 'd rush to get away when we all broke loose 
so, and they ’d have to make some noise scram- 
bling through the brush in the dark. 

Nobody had heard anything, though, but their 
own racket. 

“Well, weVe got to look around. Friday, 
you and Saturday take Sunday between you and 
curl down by the fire, and keep your eyes and 
ears open, and your mouths shut; Tuesday and 
Wednesday, you go to the right, circle around so 
as to cut off any one trying to make a sneak to 
the hills; we will do the same this way, and all 
meet at the river. Move careful, and spot every 
sound or stir.’’ 

The smaller boys, scared and round-eyed, not 
at all liking to be left, crept close to the fire, 
shrinking together as the big boys vanished. It 
seemed an awful time to them till the boys came 
back. 

“Hear anything?” Monday asked. 

“Not a thing — not even you fellows after you 
got away. Gee! but it was tough waiting!” 
Friday stood up, stretching his cramped legs. 

The boys had cut long willow poles at the 
river, which they trimmed and made into search- 
18 


THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 


lights with torches on the ends, and went about 
flashing among the lower branches of the trees 
on the side the missiles had come from, and 
searched the thickets thoroughly to make sure 
no one was hiding, but found nothing, and gath- 
ered thoughtfully about the fire. 

‘‘Well, seems to be nothing more doing; let ’s 
slick up and have some music,’’ Monday pro- 
posed. 

They washed the dishes, arranged their box 
seats about the fire, got out mandolins and guitar, 
popcorn and popper in preparation for a jolly 
evening, but the strange affair made them sober. 

“It could n’t have been anything falling, less 
it was hailstones,” Saturday said suddenly, show- 
ing what he was thinking of. 

“Never saw it hail from a clear sky,” Wednes- 
day declared. “And it must have been fired at 
us to come with such force.” 

“Indians ’d use arrows,” little Sunday sug- 
gested timidly. 

That raised a laugh and made them feel 
better. 

“Has n’t been any Indians here for a hundred 
years, little man,” Monday assured his little 
brother. 


19 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘Tt looks like a pea-shooter or air-gnn;” Fri- 
day turned his wrist to the light ; “ ’most broke 
the skin.” 

‘‘Maybe we can find their ammunition, what- 
ever it was, in the morning, if we have n’t scuffed 
it into the dirt. Looks like shot to me, too, but 
who? — and why? They’re the questions;” 
Wednesday looked around for an answer. 

“It does n’t seem possible that anybody could 
have fired at us. Nobody has any reason to 
attack us; we ’re perfect strangers here;” Monday 
shook his head and gave it up. 

“Is n’t an insane asylum about here, is there?” 
Thursday asked suddenly. 

“O pshaw, no !” Alonday scoffed, giving 
Thursday a warning look. He had thought of 
that, too, but they were all startled enough, the 
smaller boys especially, without getting up a 
scare over an imaginary lunatic lurking in the 
bushes about the camp, and who might steal in 
on them when they were asleep. “Come on; 
let ’s have that new march, and then sing a while ;” 
Monday seized his mandolin and began tuning 
to the guitar Tuesday was softly strumming. In 
a few minutes the woods were echoing to the 
lively strains, the stars peeping through the leaves 
overhead seemed to twinkle merrily; Saturday 


20 


THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 


jumped up and gyrated about the fire in time 
to the music, and Sunday forgot his fears and 
helped Friday with the corn popping. 

‘‘Getting on with our song, O Poet?'’ Monday 
asked, when the corn had been finished. 

“Only part of the first verse," Tuesday 
grinned with the others, “but we have the chorus, 
you know." 

“Well, keep her stewing till you get the rest. 
It 's fine, if our one and only Poet did poem it," 
Thursday declared. 

“And our one and only Musicker did music 
it," Tuesday retorted. 

“Come on, plunk up; let's have the chorus 
all together — our nightcap, remember," Monday 
said. “Go ahead, choir leader, band master, 
musicker, and so forth." 

Thursday, who had considerable musical 
ability, and a cultivated voice, sprang up, waving 
his mandolin for a baton, and they all burst into 
the rollicking chorus of their own particular song, 
designed, when completed, to exploit the adven- 
tures of the W eek upon its vacation : 

“’Tis the swoop of the Week, 

Of the Week, Week, Week; 

*Tis the swoop, *t is the swo-o-op, 

*T is the swoop of the jolly old Week. Ki-yi!” 


21 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


The last syllable suddenly shot up to the high- 
est pitch as a fitting climax. Thursday crammed 
his mandolin into its bag, hung it on a limb, and 
dived into the tent, pulling off his coat as he went. 
Monday banked the fire with fresh earth, and soon 
the camp was wrapped in deep slumber. 


22 


CHAPTER II 

THE CHARGE OF TAURUS 


‘Toot! To-o-ot! To-o-ot! Wake up, sleepy- 
heads Little Sunday flourished the horn, laugh- 
ing triumphantly as he blared it into the tent. 

The first one up was privileged to rout out the 
camp, and he had determined to do it every morn- 
ing. The sun was just peeping into green, blos- 
somy Happy Valley; bluejays screamed, black- 
birds twittered and whistled, crows cawed, and 
a squirrel high up in a swaying treetop chattered 
excitedly to his mate about the creatures who had 
invaded their country, and who made such hor- 
rible sounds. 

In the light of the bright, breezy morning, 
the scare of the night before seemed like a dream. 

“If it was n't for the slight marks yet, I 'd 
say — " 

“Say what? — that we imagined it?” Wednes- 
day interrupted Tuesday. “You 'd ought to got 
a shot — you 'd found it real, if it is n't explain- 
able or guessable.” 


23 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“O yes, it was real enough,’’ Thursday ad- 
mitted, “and we’ll have to stow it away with 
the other mysteries; it isn’t likely to happen 
again, anyhow.” 

“And after breakfast we ’ve got to settle that 
little affair about our neighbor on the hill,” Mon- 
day reminded them. 

Thursday looked a trifle sulky as he said, “I 
thought you ’d dropped that foolishness.” 

“Nope, I ’m not a quitter.” 

“Say, we ’re going to see if the fish ’ll bite,” 
Friday said, and leaving Saturday, who had to 
hunt up a new shoestring, to follow them, he ran 
away with Sunday to a pool beside a big rock, 
down the river a bit. 

“Don’t be gone long,” Monday called after 
them. 

Saturday was offended because they would 
not wait for him, and declared he would n’t go 
at all, and put his line away. 

“Do you think it ’s safe for us all to go off 
and leave the camp alone?” Wednesday asked, 
coming from the spring with a bucket of water. 
“I saw a hog over yonder.” 

“Thursday ’ll be here,” Monday replied. 

“Thursday ’ll be hunting,” that young man 
snapped. 


24 


THE CHARGE OE TAURUS 


‘‘We might put up a pole fence around the 
tent and wagon. We don’t want to have to 
keep guard all the time, do we?” Tuesday asked. 

“Thursday’s permit may not include tree fell- 
ing,” Monday returned, doubtfully. 

“Fell all of them, and market the timber if 
you like,” Thursday gestured grandly, “only 
don’t expect me to spend my vacation working 
like a nigger for a hayseed, for I won’t do it!” 

“It won’t take more than a week, if the Week 
all pitches in,” Monday replied, adding soberly, 
“You just come up after a while, and you ’ll be 
the hardest worker among us when you ’ve 
seen^ — ” 

“I don’t want to see, and I don’t intend to. 
It ’s none of my business,” Thursday interrupted 
hastily. 

“All right. We won’t quarrel over it,” Mon- 
day returned. “I do n’t say I ’m keen on the 
job, never did a bit of it; but I ’m sure I can do 
as well as that girl, and I know I ’m a whole lot 
stouter. The coffee ’s bubbling, breakfast ’s ready, 
and those kids off yet.” 

“I ’ll go after them,” Saturday offered, hav- 
ing gotten over his huff. 

“O, I ’ll just call them. Who-o-pe-e! Break- 
fast!” Monday yelled through his hands. The 

25 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

other boys joined in the halloo till the woods 
rang. 

Instead of the expected answer, however, a 
sudden confusion of sounds arose in the direc- 
tion the boys had gone; sharp cries, shouts, and 
presently a big, rumbling boom, then a crashing 
as of some heavy animal tearing at headlong 
speed through the underbrush. 

‘‘Sounds like they need help!’' Monday ex- 
claimed, snatching a stick from the firewood. 

“Get the gun I mebbe it ’s a bear !" Saturday 
quavered, with big eyes. 

“Cattle ! Bull ! Hear him !” Thursday yelled, 
snatching another stick. 

At that instant Friday came in sight, bare- 
headed, barefooted, running his swiftest ; and close 
behind, his aggressive tail straight in the air, 
horns lowered, and growling a threatening, 
throaty rumble, there lunged a big, black bull. 

It was easy to see that no mere sticks would 
stop him, and there was an instant scattering 
of the boys. Agile Saturday shinned up a small 
oak, Wednesday plunged into the covered wagon, 
Tuesday dashed to cover behind the plum thicket, 
where Monday joined him a second later, yank- 
ing the panting Friday with him; from there 
they took to trees. The bull, bewildered by so 
26 


THE CHARGE OF TAURUS 


many rushing figures, turned uncertainly from 
one to another, delaying his attack, and they 
were all soon safely beyond his reach. Satur- 
day was in plain sight, and with increased anger 
the buh charged his tree, butting it repeatedly, 
frightening a cry from the boy. 

'‘Hold fast, and do n’t drop like a ripe apple ; 
he can’t get you!” Thursday shouted. 

"Where’s Danny? — say Joe, where ’d you 
leave Danny? Is he hurt?” Monday wias de- 
manding over and over, having failed to shake 
an answer out of Friday as he snatched him 
behind the thicket. 

"Ni-nickel!” spluttered Friday, still blowing 
from his run. "He ’s all right. Do n’t you get 
down; that bull ’s fierce!” 

But Monday had dropped from his tree al- 
ready, in an attempt to dart away out of sight, 
and run for little Sunday — an attempt the bull 
immediately frustrated, driving him into another 
tree in a hurry. 

"Did you say Danny was all right, Joe?” 
he called anxiously. 

"Yep. Nickle! — five of ’em,” Friday cried, 
inexorably. 

"O come, that is n’t fair. How ’d Monday 
know but the little fellow ’d been killed?” 


27 


THE SWOOP OE THE WEEK 


Wednesday stuck his head out of the wagon 
to make this speech, but ducked back quickly 
as the bull bolted for him and stormed his 
refuge till it shook. 

To draw him off and prevent a possible 
wrecking of the wheel, the rest set up a chorus 
of mocking bellows, and he charged them one 
after the other, pawing the ground, bellowing, 
and butting the trees viciously. 

‘‘Where is Sunday?’’ Monday yelled above 
the rumpus. 

“I had him crawl into a holler log we was 
sittin’ on, while I toled the old feller off with 
my red sweater. I can sprint, and little Sunday 
can’t, and I thought I ’d git rid of him when 
I flung the sweater away, but he wasn’t to be 
fooled, the old wall-eyes! Mo-o-o-wo-woo,” he 
mocked at the beast glaring up at him. 

“Bully for you!” hurrahed Saturday. 

“It was the bull for me, all right,” snickered 
Friday, himself again. 

“You ’re a man and a half, good old Friday !” 
Monday called, gratefully. “And now what, 
fellows ?” 

“Treed!” Thursday explained briefly. 

“It is to la-a-augh! Ha, ha-a-a!” bubbled 
Friday. 


28 


THE CHARGE OF TAURUS 


‘‘Sure! WeTe treed, all right, all but 
Wednesday,” Monday agreed, “and I guess he 
wishes he was where he dared speak.” 

“Let ’s sing to old Taurus — ‘music hath 
charms,’ you know,” Tuesday drawled, peering 
out from a festoon of leaves. 

“That’s it!” Friday and Saturday whooped 
together, and struck up the swoop song with 
an improvisation for the benefit of the bull : 

“ ’T is the snoop of the bull, 

Of the ornery old bull, 

*T is the sno-o-op, ’t is the sno-o-op, 

’T is the snoop of the ornery old bull. Ki-yi!” 

“Bet the folks up in the sun can hear that 
‘ki-yi’ — so near ’em anyway,” Friday declared. 
Wednesday dared not sing, and did his part in 
exorcising the assailant by whizzy-swiggling his 
ancestors with hideous grimaces. 

Over and over they roared the snoop, the 
bull snorting, bellowing, and booming an angry 
accompaniment. At a lull in the racket came a 
faint “ki-yi,” like a little echo, alarming Monday. 

“That’s Sunday!” he cried. “He hears us, 
and may think all ’s right and come to camp.” 

“No he won’t,” Friday asserted; “I told him 
to stay there till you come for him; he’ll stay, 
I betche!” 


29 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘‘Friday 's got a lightning thinker, boys; he 's 
the man for me when I need it,” Monday said. 
“Listen at the little screech owl ! — he ’s in the 
log yet; it sounds muffled — but he wants us to 
know he 's all there” — again came the faint 
“ki-yi” — “Let ’s give him another one,” which 
they did at the top of their voices, and then 
Monday shouted to him to “lay-low-and-keep- 
dark!” 

As if exasperated at being unable to reach 
any of his jeering enemies, the bull suddenly 
turned upon the tent. 

“Right across our breakfast, through our 
grub!” Tuesday moaned. 

“There goes our cofifee!” Monday yelled, as 
a flying hoof sent the pot spinning into the 
smoldering fire. The steam and ashes rose in 
a hissing cloud, and seemed to excite the beast 
to greater wrath, and he pranced about, banging 
tinware and kettles, making tremendous lunges 
at the tent. 

He thrust his horns through it finally, and 
plunged and trampled, with a sound of tearing 
that raised cries of dismay and wrath. 

“We can't be ruined entirely!” Monday 
shouted. “Wednesday, get the gun in there 
and pepper his old legs good with shot!” 

30 


THE CHARGE OF TAURUS 


‘‘Ye’ll pay a big damage bill if he does!” 
a sharp voice rasped, and a small, old man on 
a tall horse pushed into the battlefield. 

“It ’s you that ’ll pay damage, if he ’s yours,” 
Thursday retorted. 

“You fellers was tormentin’ him — I heard 
ye I” It ’d make any bull mad, an’ he sort o’ 
paid ye for it;” the man regarded the destruc- 
tion, a sly grin pulling his leathery face awry, 
then added, vindictively, “An’ besides, he belongs 
here; he ’s on his own ground, so to say, for this 
bottom ’s his trompin’ ground ; it hain’t ever been 
inhabited. You” — he shook his whip at the treed 
boys — “you fellers ain’t no business here!” 

“This bottom is inhabited now!” Thursday 
retorted, hotly, “and we have a right here, too ! 
It ’s my uncle’s property, and you keep your 
bulls and beasts off of it if you do n’t want them 
hurt !” 

“My ! my ! you do n’t say !” the old fellow 
fleered; then with sudden anger, he snapped his 
whip, vociferating: “Ye prove it’s his propputy; 
jest ye prove it, or git off! Yer a pack of lazy 
scalawags, and ’d ought to be run out o’ the 
country — a rampagin’ over folks’s farms, an’ 
shootin’ stock, an’ sneakin’ hen roosts, an’ into 
cellars an’ orchards. I know the like o’ ye, an’ 

31 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

no good o' them either. Git out o' here, I tell 
ye !" 

“We are not thieves, sir," Monday replied, 
with all the dignity attainable, astride a limb. 
“We can pay for what we want; and you ought 
to pay us for what your brute destroyed. You 
ought to be arrested for letting such a vicious 
beast run; he'd as soon kill as not." 

“Git yer damage! — ^yer welcome to it when 
ye git it!" the man cackled, tantalizingly, “and 
ye 'd better git out o' this, too, while yer gittin ! 
Ye git out!" 

He started after the bull, which, at sight 
of his master with the stinging whip, had ambled 
away, grumbling. 

“Head 'im off there, Alexander; turn 'im 
to'ard home!" the man ordered, and they for 
the first time noticed a small boy on another 
tall horse, who had waited at one side. His 
freckled face wore the same exasperating grin 
that had distorted the old man's, and to it he 
added an aggravating snicker, as he threw them 
a last look over his shoulder. 

“Well, they're a precious pair!" Monday 
ejaculated, as he slipped down and set off after 
Sunday. When he returned with the little fellow 
astride his shoulders, waving Friday's sweater 

32 


THE CHARGE OF TAURUS 


in one hand and his shoes and stockings in the 
other, the boys were grouped about the ruins, 
taking stock of calamity. 

^Xooks like a cyclone had struck us, for a 
fact,’’ Wednesday commented. 

‘Tt ’s a sure enough mix-up,” Monday re- 
turned. /‘But it might have been worse. None 
of us were hurt, so we won’t growl.” He set 
Sunday on his feet and held out a hand to Fri- 
day, saying: “Let me shake hands with a young 
Napoleon for quickness and bravery. When I 
saw how you boys were situated down there 
when the brute charged on you, I wonder one 
or both of you was n’t killed, as you would 
but for swift thinking and brave acting.” 

“Aw shucks!” Friday said, dodging the hand, 
and rescuing the coffee pot, he hastily began 
rebuilding the fire. 

“Well, fellows, I reckon the mystery of last 
night is explained, isn’t it?” Tuesday suggested. 

“You mean it was the old man!” Monday 
exclaimed. 

“Of course it was,” Thursday asserted; “he 
looks mean enough for anything ! He ’d found 
out we were here, and was trying to scare us 
away.” 

“Maybe, but it was little business in a man, 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


playing bogie tricks,” Monday replied. He was 
glad to see Sunday and the other smaller boys 
brighten at this commonplace solution of the 
scare; but to himself he wondered how the old 
man, if it were he, had made such a quick and 
silent get-away. 

‘‘And now let ’s get breakfast again,” 
Wednesday proposed. 

“Yes, let ’s — for when, O when did we have 
anything to eat, and when, O when will we 
ever chew again?” Tuesday groaned, sorting the 
mess on the cloth. 

“He left his footprint in the butter, see!” 
little Sunday shrieked, pointing to the pan that 
served as butter-plate. 

“ ‘Footprints-that-perhaps-another,’ ” chanted 
Tuesday. 

“O, let us hope not! — another would ruin 
us entirely,” Monday declared. “All the butter 
we had, the whole pound, was in that tin,” he 
lamented; then he turned briskly to work, add- 
ing, “But we ’ve plenty of other grub, and we 'll 
soon rustle up our breakfast; we need it, too! 
It 's past nine o'clock, boys ; would you think it !” 

“I would ! I 'd think it was past a hundred 
o’clock, I 'm so holler!” Friday declared, doubling 
over on his stomach. 


34 


CHAPTER III 

THE VOTE. THURSDAY WINS 

After breakfast they straightened out the tent 
and found that an hour or two of work, with 
their big needles and linen thread, would make 
it almost as good as ever. 

^‘Then we ’d as well put it in the wagon, 
ready to move back up the river a piece,” Mon- 
day said, sucking the finger he had just jabbed. 

^‘We’re not going to move!” Thursday de- 
clared, scowling at the ragged rent his unskilled 
fingers were trying to mend ; ‘‘think I dl be run 
out, off of our own place by that ugly, old — ” 

“Is ’nt it possible that we are trespassing?” 
Monday interrupted. 

“No, sir, it isn’t! Uncle Dick showed me 
the boundaries on the map; he got the land in 
a trade; he’s never been up here, but he had 
the boundary and corners made plain, of course. 
He always knows the lay of his property.” 

“It ’s easy to make a mistake, especially as 
he ’s never been — ” 


35 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“He ’s got an abstract — he can run it back to 
Government/' Thursday asserted, as if that were 
convincing evidence, “and you do n't have to 
see land to locate it. I 'm going to look up 
the comer stones, and you 'd better come along, 
Monday, if you 're afraid we 're trespassing." 

“The old fellow hinted there might be diffi- 
culty in proving this spot as being on your uncle's 
property," Monday reminded him. 

“Just bluff and cheek!" sputtered the indig- 
nant youth. “ ‘Prove it, or git off,' he said, — 
well, I 'm going to prove it, all right." 

“Aw say," drawled Tuesday, “let 's not have 
a row over line fences. Let 's just give little 
Mr. Man the cold shoulder of scorn, and go 
back up the river and find a more congenial 
spot." 

“And have another old hayseed turning mad 
bulls loose on us ! I 'm sure he had goaded the 
brute red-hot, let him out, and chased him down 
this way, hoping to harm us," Thursday vowed. 

“Whether he did or not, he certainly was n't 
sorry it happened," Wednesday said. 

“Sorry!" Saturday scoffed. “He grinned all 
over, and so did that little monkey on the other 
horse." 

“Better not call names," Friday teased, “the 

36 


THE VOTE. THURSDAY WINS 


little monkey ’s about your size ; he might make 
you take it back.” 

'‘Could n’t ! I c’n lick ’im, I betche, an’ I 
will, too, if he snickers at me,” Saturday blus- 
tered, squaring off with his fists up. 

Monday smoothed his completed seam and 
straightened up. "Look here, boys,” he said, 
gravely, "we came out on this camping trip for 
fun; but if we go to quarreling with our neigh- 
bors we ’ll have trouble, and lots of it, with 
mighty little fun. I say, let ’s take Tuesday’s 
advice and go back up the river to the outer 
edge of Steve’s uncle’s land, and — ” 

"Nickel! Nickel! Nickel!” they shouted. 

"Or we can rent a spot, for that matter,” 
Monday went on, paying his fine with a wry 
face; "there’ll soon be enough from me to pay 
for it.” 

"We’re going the other way,” Thursday 
flared, forgetting his vow not to move a few 
moments before; he arose, having bunglingly 
finished his stunt on the tent mending, which 
had not sweetened his temper; "we’re going 
on to that big oak over yonder. I ’ll show 
the old — ” 

"It ’s farther from the spring.” 

"I ’ll carry the water,” Thursday promised. 

37 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘‘Won’t the old feller rave, though!” Satur- 
day chuckled, always ready for a row. 

“That ’s what I want — make him so hot 
he ’ll explode,” Thursday said. “He begun it — 
he ’ll get enough before I quit ! I ’ll move nearer 
every time he yaps, till we ’re plump against 
his fence. O, he ’ll get it, all right !” 

This looked like fine courage to the smaller 
boys, and they cheered, but Monday said, coax- 
ingly : 

“O come, Thursday, let ’s drop it and show 
him we consider his room better than his com- 
pany.” 

“And go off up yonder and spend our vaca- 
tion digging in the dirt for that other old hay- 
seed,” Thursday sneered, unpleasantly. “It ’s 
my tent; I ’ll take it where I please!” He rushed 
away to get the horses. 

The boys stood looking at each other, a little 
offended at Thursday’s ungenerous insinuation. 

“One of the horses is his, too, and the wagon ; 
but I did n’t think he ’d twit us with it,” Mon- 
day growled. 

“O, I guess he doesn’t mean to twit us,” 
Tuesday said, pacifically. “He’s hot now; he’ll 
be ashamed of it when he cools off. Let ’s not 
get boiling, too.” 


38 


THE VOTE. THURSDAY WINS 


‘^Good advice, old peacemaker Monday’s 
face cleared, and he slapped Tuesday’s shoulder. 

‘‘Aw, Tuesday ’s not so good ; he ’s too lazy 
to fight, that ’s all,” Friday laughed. 

“You can do enough at that for both of us,” 
his brother retorted, “but some day, when I feel 
like it, I ’m going to dress you down good.” 

“Come on! come on right now!” Friday 
dared; then, as the bigger boys paid no more 
attention to him, he set upon Saturday, and they 
fell to wrestling, with Sunday hopping around 
them yelping encouragement to both. 

“There ’ll be apt to be some fighting in ear- 
nest, if we interfere with Steve while he ’s mad,” 
Wednesday said. 

“Nickel!” Monday yelled, delighted to catch 
some one else. 

“We might settle it by vote; here he comes;” 
Tuesday turned as Thursday approached, leading 
the horses. “I was just saying we ’d vote on 
the moving question, Thursday ; that be all 
right ?” 

Thursday looked doubtful as well as stub- 
born. “Danny ’ll vote with Harve, of course,” 
he objected. 

“Nickel! nickel! nickel!” howled the smaller 
boys. 


39 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘‘Will you leave Danny out?’’ Thursday 
asked Monday, as he dropped three nickels in 
the bank Sunday held up. 

They all agreed to this, and Sunday good- 
naturedly consented to be left out. Thursday 
put the question as he saw it: 

“Shall we turn our backs and run like cow- 
ards? All in favor, stand over there!” 

Monday, red and belligerent, and Tuesday, 
smiling nonchalantly, stepped to the spot indi- 
cated. Friday hesitated, resenting the epithet 
and longing to ally himself with the fighting 
side, but recalling certain promises exacted of 
him by his parents, slowly followed his brother. 

“And all in favor of fighting it out like menr 
Thursday struck his chest, “line up beside meT 
with another thump on his puffed-out breast. 

Saturday hop-skip-and- jumped close to Thurs- 
day, while Wednesday took his place on the other 
side, with an apologetic grin to the boys oppo- 
site. 

“Good old Billy! Thought I could count 
on you,” Thursday nodded, then added : “It ’s 
a tie! a tie! Harve, Claud, and Joe, against 
Billy, Tom, and m — ” 

“Nickel ! — six of ’em !” yelled Friday and 
Saturday. 


40 


THE VOTE. THURSDAY WINS 


“Harve, Claud, and Joe against Billy, Tom, 
and me,” Thursday repeated deliberately ; 
“there ’s fifty cents, and good luck go with ’em. 
I reckon we do n’t do any sneaking yet awhile,” 
he laughed triumphantly. 

“But I ’m not goin’ to be called a coward 
just because they won’t let me fight,” Friday 
spluttered. 

“Hurrah!” Thursday shouted; “we win! 
Friday ’d vote on our side if he could, and that 
gives us the majority. And man Friday, I 
did n’t call you cowards ; I said like cowards, 
see?” 

Thursday was in high good humor, now 
things were going his way. 

“I suppose we’d all rather fight than run — 
that is, unless we thought we ’d get licked,” 
Monday laughed, “but I ’ve got to stand for 
peace every time, as you fellows know; for, be- 
cause I ’m, a little the oldest and a good deal 
the biggest — ” 

“Huh!” Wednesday interrupted, plumping 
back to back with Monday, showing them about 
of a height. 

“Biggest inside, I meant,” Monday went on; 
“more grown up and all that, — the home au- 
thorities made me sort o’ responsible for this 

41 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


menagerie. But anyway, I do n’t think it ’ll be 
much fun rowing with that old man, even if he 
is in the wrong.” 

‘T do n’t care what you think, it ’s what 
you do, counts,” Thursday replied, “and this 
part of the menagerie is his own responsibility. 
So you need n’t worry whatever I do, especially 
as I ’d keep right on just the same. Now we ’ve 
got to hurry or we won’t get moved in time 
for dinner.” 

“We can’t, whether we hurry or not,” 
Wednesday exhibited his watch. “Let ’s rig 
up the kitchen things there first, and set the 
kids cooking, while we fix the rest.” 

“Kids yourselves!” Friday snorted, but he 
and Saturday worked briskly, having a little ex- 
pedition of their own in mind, and by the time 
the tent was up they had dinner. 

“It ’s a whole lot better place,” Saturday 
declared, as they were eating. 

“There ’s not so many easy-to-climib trees 
handy, though,” Monday suggested. 

“Well, we don’t expect to need ’em,” said 
Thursday. “I ’m going to shoot the next critter 
that comes to play in our yard. 

“Suppose we put up a fence,” Monday pro- 
posed; “be better than to risk having the tent 
42 


THE VOTE. THURSDAY WINS 


torn again. There ’s plenty big limbs for it on 
the fallen trees ; we would n’t have to cut the 
green timber — I ’d hate to do that unless we were 
sure — ” 

'T am sure!”. Thursday interrupted; ‘T ’m 
perfectly sure, and we ’ll cut all we want he 
was hot now for building the fence, and Mon- 
day hurried the work, thinking that once the 
fence was up Thursday would not move again, 
whatever the aggravation from the unpleasant 
old man. Thursday was the only one who cut 
any of the growing trees, the rest contenting 
themselves with large limbs on fallen trees, of 
which there was a great plenty. Of course, 
Thursday was able to take care of himself, as 
he said. 

The three smaller boys, having washed and 
put away the dishes, scampered ofif, with renewed 
promises not to go into the river swimming or 
wading, and to — ‘‘look out for bulls.” 

The afternoon was pretty well along by the 
time the rough fence was finished. 

“Do n’t look very fancy, for a fact, but it ’s 
all we need,” Monday regarded their job with 
amusement. “And now,” he added, “I ’ve got 
to go up yonder and call on our neighbor. It ’s 
too late to do anything to-day, but I must go 

43 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


and explain why I did n’t get around this morn- 
ing. Any of you want to go along and get 
acquainted ?” 

‘‘Guess I ’ll go,” Wednesday ventured, with 
a glance at Thursday. 

“And I guess I won’t. Done enough for to- 
day;” Tuesday lolled on the grass, examining 
his blistered hands. 

“O, we ’ve all got ’em,” said Thursday, “and 
if you turn farmhand you’ll have worse — hello! 
Listen !” 

They all jumped up, startled at the faint 
sound of spasmodic shrieks. 

“Something ’s happened to those boys !” Mon- 
day cried with a frightened quaver. “It can’t 
be they went into the river!” — he turned white 
at thought of what might be. 

“One of ’em ’s coming for help, anyway,” 
Tuesday exclaimed. 

They all dashed away together, Monday la- 
menting, “Why did we let them go off alone!” 


44 


CHAPTER IV 

THE BATTLE OF THE BANTAMS 


‘Tt "'s little Sunday!” shouted Thursday, who 
was a pace ahead. 

In another instant they came upon the little 
fellow struggling in a patch of clinging briers. 
Monday gathered him up, demanding: 

‘What ’s the matter ? — is one of them in the 
river?” 

Sunday, sobbing and panting, exhausted with 
running and crying, pounded his brother’s shoul- 
der, gasping in a frenzy: 

“O, O ! he ’s kil-killing him — he ’s a-all 
blo-bloody! O! O! he’ll be — be ki-killed! hur- 
hurry! hur-hur-ry!” 

“Who ’ll be killed ? Who ’s all bloody ? 
Who ’s killing him ?” The questions, fired at 
him from all of them at once, confused the 
frightened child still more, and he burst into 
louder wails, crying, “Hur-ry, hur-ry,” point- 
ing back. 

“Let him alone a minute, boys,” Monday 
said as they sprinted along; then, after a bit, 
when Sunday had quieted somewhat, he coaxed : 

45 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“Now tell brother about it. Who is hurt, 
and what is it?’' 

“It 's T — T — Saturday ; he 's all blood-bloody 
— and he won’t let J — Friday help — he holds 
him- — and hollers to kill him — O ! he ’s a-all 
blo-bloody.” 

“There ’s about a thousand he ’s in it, sounds 
like,” Thursday cackled. “Say, look here, 
Danny; is it a fight?” Sunday nodded vehe- 
mently. 

“Friday ’n’ Saturday?” Wednesday asked. 
Sunday shook his head. 

“It ’s the monkey boy, an’ — an’ Saturday ’s 
a-all bloody,” his voice slid up into a shriek 
again. 

“Just a boys’ fight!” Tuesday clutched 
Wednesday. “Hold me up! I’m scared weak 
as a string, and for a boys’ fight!” 

“But they ’ll half kill that little freckle-face. 
Two on one’s no fair; we’ve got to stop it in 
a hurry. I expect it ’s him that ’s all bloody,” 
Monday declared. 

“But, see here; Danny said something about 
‘he won’t let Friday’ — I ’ll bet ye! — Say, Danny, 
the old fellow’s there; he’s holding Friday — 
that it?” 


46 


THE BATTLE OF THE BANTAMS 


^‘Yes, yes,” Danny shrilled. ^^And Satur- 
day ’s a-all blo-bloody !” 

‘‘Here, Steve! wait a minute,” Monday called, 
as with an angry yelp Thursday leaped off like 
a hound. “Wait a minute! We don’t know 
what kind of trouble we’re getting into; we 
must all go together, though I do n’t suppose 
there ’s much harm done, only Saturday’s got 
it on the nose. Danny can’t stand the sight of 
blood; it makes him wild, that accounts for his 
scare — ” 

“That ’s Friday!” Tuesday cried, as a screech, 
suddenly cut off, readied them. “Choked — old 
man! Coming Friday!” he roared, and darted 
off neck and neck with Thursday. 

“Danny must n’t see any more of it,” Mon- 
day stopped. “Look here, Danny boy, brother ’ll 
spread his coat on this nice bed of moss by this 
big tree, and you curl down on it and wait till 
we come back — brother ’ll be sure to come. Play 
you ’re a little wild deer hiding.” Nobody had 
thought of fines in the excitement, but now 
Sunday looked up with a twinkle, and said, 
“Nickel,” then as Monday put it into his hand, 
he pulled a sleeve over his face and curled down, 
and Monday and Wednesday rushed away. 

47 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


They were only a few moments behind the 
other two, but those few moments almost pre- 
cipitated a catastrophe. They arrived to find 
Tuesday struggling to hold Thursday, who, wild 
with rage, was brandishing a club and threaten- 
ing to brain the old man. It was their unpleasant 
visitor of the morning, and he clutched the 
squirming boy against his breast, one arm across 
his throat, and the other pinioning the prisoner’s 
arms to his side. 

On the ground was a writhing tangle of boys, 
pounding and whacking, with snorts and snarls, 
and orders to ‘‘Cry nuff!” and “Cry nuff your- 
self !” 

“Lick ’im, Alexander! Lick ’im, lick ’im, 
if ye have to kill ’im to do it. Lick ’imi, lick ’im, 
lick ’im !” the old man was squealing. 

“Help Tuesday hold that blooming cyclone,” 
Monday said to Wednesday; then, seizing the 
combatants, he tore them apart, picked up Satur- 
day and backed off with him, demanding, 
“What ’re doing, anyhow ?” 

“I said I ’d lick ’im if he snickered at me, an’ 
I did!” Saturday bellowed, dashing the blood 
from his nose. 

“Yer a liar! Ye did n’t lick me; ye could n’t !” 
blustered Alexander, staggering to a tree for 

48 


THE BATTLE OE THE BANTAMS 


support. ‘‘Yer a liar! ye could nT, an^ ye did n’t 
either !” He also dashed the blood from his nose. 

‘T did!. I did! I was on top! I had ye 
licked, an’ you know it — if ye do n’t, I ’ll show 
ye! You lemme go!” Saturday turned fiercely 
upon his captor. 

‘T guess you bantam roosters have had fight 
enough,” Monday said, grimly. 

'T licked ’im, I licked ’im! Grandad, didn’t 
I lick ’im?” Alexander cried. ‘T licked ’im, an’ 
I c’n lick you!” he flung at Friday. 

‘T hope you boys were not so unfair as to 
both set upon him at once,” Monday said. 

^‘Of course not,” Friday declared, jerking 
away from the old man’s loosened grasp; ‘‘course 
we would n’t do that.” 

“They did ! They ’d about killed Alexander 
if I had n’t a held ’im off,” the old man asserted. 

“He’s a liar!” Friday snorted. “If Saturday 
could n’t lick that little nifty, I ’d be ashamed to 
know him.” 

“I tell ye, they wuz both a-settin’ on to 
Alexander, an’ on our land, too. 

“Yer a—” 

“Aw Friday, turn off your megaphone and 
push in the stops,” Tuesday advised mildly, add- 
ing to the irate old man, in apology: “Excuse 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


his free mouthpiece, Mr. Man, he ’s excited now ; 
he was n’t brought up to fling bad words at his 
elders like that.” 

^‘But I never thought of helping Saturday,’’ 
Friday stuck to his point. 

“An’ I say ye did! and ye started it, too, 
an’ on our place,” the old man fumed. “And I 
order the pack of ye to git out o’ here, an’ ye ’ll 
do it, too, if ye know what ’s good for ye. Git 
off, I say!” 

With the cessation of the fight Thursday had 
come to his senses and dropped his club, but he 
blazed up again at this: “We’ve a right on my 
uncle’s property, and we’re going to stay, too! 
And you ’ll get as good as you give, if you dis- 
turb us. I ’m going to hunt up our corner stones ; 
I ’ll show you.” 

“Come on, it ’s no use jawing with him 
Monday linked his arm through Thursday’s, and 
they all started away, followed by Alexander’s 
insistent, “I licked ye!” and the old man’s “Git 
out, I tell ye; git out!” 

“Skidoo, yourself! Skido-o!” Friday howled 
back, in spite of Tuesday’s efforts to silence him. 

When they came to the little! brook that 
twisted down from the hills, now almost dry, 
Monday said: “Wash the blood off good, won’t 

50 


THE battle of the BANTAMS 


you, Saturday, in one of the pools? It scares 
Sunday to see it.” 

The little fellow had covered himself entirely 
with the coat, and had gone to sleep. Monday 
felt of his hot hands anxiously. 

‘T Ve got to take better care of him ; he 's 
had too much excitement for one day — the bull 
scare this morning, and the fight on top of it.” 

^‘He was n’t much scared this morning. He 
was on the side by the opening in the log, and 
when I yelled for him to get in there quick, he 
popped in and hardly saw the bull,” Friday said, 
endeavoring to ease Monday’s fears. 

^‘He did n’t seem much scared,” Monday ad- 
mitted ; ‘‘he had n’t cried, and he came out laugh- 
ing.” 

“And he was n’t scared much about the fight 
till Saturday got his nose busted and the blood 
began to stream ; then Sunday danced and 
screamed.” 

They all sat down on the grass to wait for 
Saturday, and hear how the fuss had come up. 

“Who began it?” Monday asked. 

“Aw, it sort o’ happened,” Friday twinkled. 
“We went off that way hunting birds’ nests, and 
kep’ a-going till the first we knew we was up 
to their fence; then we thought of Thursday’s 

51 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


corner stones, and went to looking for ’em. We 
did n’t find ’em, but we found freckled Alex- 
ander, and he snickered at us about the bull 
running us into trees, an’ then he an’ Saturday 
sort o’ got a-going,” Friday winked. 

‘‘You rascal!” Tuesday said, “I expect you 
set them at it.” 

“I did n’t either ! I sat on the fence and 
recited, ‘How big was Alexander, paw?’ to him,” 
— the boys roared. “He thought I was makin’ 
fun of him, same as you do,” Friday put on 
an injured expression, “and he began to prance 
with his fists up, and the next thing, Saturday 
began to prance with his fists up, and they spit 
at each other like cats for a spell, and then they 
went at it for sure. And I just kept a-settin’ 
on* the fence and asking, ‘How big was Alex- 
ander, paw?’ and the first I knew the old man 
sneaked up behind and punched me off, and 
tumbled over after me quicker ’n’ wink. He said 
he ’d show me how big was Alexander, that he 
was Alexander himself; an’ I said, was he? 
then Alexander was n’t very big, paw ! I bent 
over to pull some brush out of the way, for the 
boys was needin’ the earth, and the old fellow 
grabbed me, pertendin’ I was goin’ to help Sat- 
urday; maybe he did think so. He kept a-yelpin’, 

52 


THE BATTLE OE THE BANTAMS 


‘‘Lick ’im, Alexander, lick ’im !’ and I yelped, 
‘Sick ’em, sick ’em!’ till he got his arm across 
my breath. Pretty soon the blood began to fly, 
and Sunday went wild and ran away. I was 
scared then, ’cause he might ’ve run into the 
river, and as soon as I could get it out, I asked 
the old man to let me run after him ; I knew 
they daren’t hurt Saturday much. The old fel- 
low was too wild himself to mind what I said, 
and kept the air hot with his ‘lick ’im’s’ and 
threats ; I got out one good holler, though, which 
he choked off — ” 

“We heard that,” Tuesday interposed. 

“I was scared again when you fellows come 
a-running without Sunday, till I remembered 
’t Monday ’d yell for him the first thing, and 
when he did n’t I knew the kiddie must be all 
right, somewhere.” 

Monday patted his shoulder gratefully, say- 
ing: “You boys are all good about having such 
a little fellow along. I could n’t have come with- 
out him, and the doctor said the camping out 
would be good for him, too ;” he felt of the small 
hands, and brightened up: “Why, I thought he 
had fever, but he hasn’t; I guess it was just his 
having been covered so close.” 

Saturday came up grinning, with a very wet 

S3 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

head, shining face, and a nose of ridiculous size. 
They all yelled at sight of him, Saturday loudest 
of all, and Sunday sat up, rubbing his eyes, laugh- 
ing too because Saturday looked so funny. 

It was so late, they ate supper by the light 
of the big brush fire; Monday kept his little 
brother quietly beside him, resting, all the even- 
ing. When the time caiue for the “night capper,” 
Sunday’s little, thin treble shrilled out on the 
“swoop,” and soared skyward with the “Ki-yi,” 
with the best of them. 

The camp had fallen into its first doze when 
Saturday bounced up suddenly, exclaiming: 

“Say, that little Alexander the Great’s a 
good fighter. Best one I ever fit with !” 

Then he dodged, chuckling, under the blan- 
kets, as a shower of shoes rained about him. 


54 


CHAPTER V 
AT ‘‘MA’S LEGACY’’ 

The: next morning when Monday started up to 
the farmhouse, all the boys except Thursday 
went along, Friday and Saturday explaining that 
they were just going because the rest did, and 
nobody need expect them to work. Early as 
it was, they found Mr. Wilson on the porch, 
one leg bandaged and propped on a stool, while 
he tinkered at an old harness. The boys did 
not know enough about it to offer help, and sat 
about on the porch and grass to wait till it was 
ready for them to use. Friday and Saturday 
immediately struck up an acquaintance with the 
boy of the cow, while the big boys told Mr. 
Wilson about the old man, and asked his name. 

that ’s old man Perkins ; so you run up 
against him the first thing, did you?'’ Mr. Wilson 
commented. thought you 'd make his ac- 
quaintance pretty quick when he found you 'd 
camped in the bottom. He 's gone fast and far 
for the time he’s had, sure. You’d better keep 

55 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


the little feller close ; that bull ’s liable to break 
out any time;” he kept his eyes on his work, 
but a suggestive smile puckered the corners of 
his mouth. 

‘T see that you think he turned the brute 
loose on us,” Monday said, somewhat troubled 
at finding Thursday’s surmise backed by one who 
probably knew the old man well enough to be 
a good judge. 

‘‘O, I wouldn’t say that, of course; but I 
would n’t be surprised to catch him at it.” 

^‘Now pa, pa,” a comfortable voice expostu- 
lated from within, ‘‘there ’s a few mean things 
he hasn’t done.” 

“It ’s because he has n’t thought of them, 
then,” Mr. Wilson laughed. “Come out and get 
acquainted, ma.” 

The floor of the little hall creaked as a large 
woman stepped heavily to the door, wiping her 
round, good-humored face on her apron. 

“This is Ma Wilson, boys. She’ll sew up 
your cuts, plaster your bruises, and dose your 
stomach-aches;” Mr. Wilson genially flourished 
a free hand towards all parties. 

The boys had arisen, and Monday hesitated 
an instant, then, deciding against the fines he 
knew would be exacted, he bowed, saying: 

56 


AT MA’S LEGACY 


^‘We are glad to make your acquaintance, 
Mrs. Wilson. We are, myself — Monday, Tues- 
day, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday,’' 
he indicated them in turn, and they all bowed, 
the larger boys considerably embarrassed at be- 
ing introduced so, but none willing to announce 
their true names. 

‘‘Well, if that isn’t an idea!” chuckled Mrs. 
Wilson, ‘‘a Week of boys! Your folks must have 
planned it.” 

^‘Likely looking Week, too,” Mr. Wilson re- 
marked openly; ‘‘you three biggest fellows look 
about of an age — must be triplets. Did they lose 
Thursday ?” 

“Why, pa!” Mrs. Wilson remonstrated. 

“O, it’s all right. We’re not all brothers; 
there are representatives of four families strung 
out through the Week,” Monday laughed. 
“Thursday ’s back at the camp; he ’s a day alone; 
the rest of us are brothers, two and two. Sun- 
day, here, is my big boss of a brother ;” he smiled 
at the child leaning against him. 

“He’s a little angel!” Mrs. Wilson ex- 
claimed. “He looks the day,” she held out a 
coaxing hand, and Sunday shyly went to her, 
and presently was cuddling contentedly against 
her bosom, while they talked. 

57 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


'‘Most of us are named for real or imaginary 
fitness; I’m lazy, therefore I’m ‘graceful,’ and 
Tuesday,” drawled Tuesday. 

Monday laughed with the rest, but red- 
dened when Mr. Wilson suggested that ‘Fair- 
o’-face’ was n’t bad for him. 

The boys were eager to learn all they could 
about Mr. Perkins’s right to the valley and where 
his boundary lines were. 

“I do n’t know,” Mr. Wilson said ; “we Ve 
newcomers — been here only a little over a year. 
You see, I was brought up in a New England 
town, clerked all my life — grocery. Did well 
enough — got a little home — got the best woman 
in the world — ^got a half dozen the smartest 
children — everything going on fine ! — expected 
to have a business of our own soon — then troubles 
come in a whole swarm, like they do sometimes. 
Sickness and sickness — ” he stopped an instant; 
Mrs. Wilson put a hand to her eyes ; “ — our old- 
est, a boy, went with the fever — Uncle Josh 
went — the third child, another boy, went with 
diphtheria — we like to lost ma — my health pe- 
tered out, and it was quit and get out on a place, 
or go under and leave ma and the rest to stagger 
along alone. By that time we had n’t much left 
but ‘Ma ’s Legacy,’ and nothing left time we 


AT MA’S LEGACY 


got out here and settled on it. But we all began 
to pick up, and I was expecting to outweigh ma 
soon, when I dug a chunk out of my leg — and 
here I am ! There ’s the condensed history of 
the Wilson family,'’ he laughed a little, and 
Mrs. Wilson laughed, too, though a tear splashed 
on Sunday’s yellow curls, as she said : 

‘Tt ’s commonplace, the history of the great 
human family. Life’s like a road — you travel 
along comfortable and easy, all good, smooth 
going; then you run into a bad piece, snags and 
ruts and stones, and if your wagon ’s shackly it ’s 
apt to go to pieces. Pa was pretty shackly when 
we came here, but he ’d begun to look as if he ’d 
had new tires, and expected to paint up soon, 
when he tumbled over that plow and dug a hole 
clear to the bone in his left leg. That ’s over 
eight months — you were fall plowing, pa?” 

was trying to,” pa corrected. ‘T had n’t 
learned much yet, though I ’d managed to scratch 
in a patch of corn and some other stuff after we 
got here — it was late, anyway. Ma and the 
children raised garden and chickens; I thought 
I ’d have a few acres of fall, or is it winter 
wheat they plow in the fall for? And I wanted 
to get in a few acres of clover pasture down 
back of the ridge.” 


59 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


, ‘‘But you could n’t a-had it down there, pa, 
you know, for old Perkins ’d turn in on ye.” 

“Who did you say, Henry J. ?” Mrs. Wilson 
demanded of the boy on the grass. 

“Mr. Perkins,” Henry J. amended, reluc- 
tantly. 

“You need n’t be disrespectful, if he is some 
cantankerous,” she added. 

“ ‘Some !’ ” Henry J. scoffed under his 
breath. 

“And so we do n’t know much about prop- 
erty lines,” Mr. Wilson resumed. “The brook 
that meanders down to the river back here is 
sometimes on our land and sometimes on his. 
Pie claims nearly to the hill on this side ; he is n’t 
sure enough to take entire possession, but he 
won’t let us possess the land in peace. We ’d 
like to pasture the cows down there, but we 
can’t, and we can’t let them run in the river 
bottom — have to hunt them at once if they get 
out; Henry J. had been after one of them when 
you saw him down there.” 

“Why, there ’s pasture enough for hundreds 
of cattle down there — good, too!” Monday ex- 
claimed. 

“Yes, but Perkins seems to have a claim 
on the bottom, or thinks he has. He ’s used it 
6o 


AT MA’S LEGACY 

for years as he pleased, from all I hear. Turns 
his cattle out there sometimes.” 

^‘And you can’t use your own land!” 
Wednesday ejaculated. ‘T ’d show him ! I ’d 
have it surveyed, and see if he owned the earth.” 

^‘That ’s what I want done,” Mr. Wilson 
replied, ‘‘but he won’t; says he knows his lines 
now, and I ’m not able to. If we can ever afford 
it, we ’ll find out sure the legal boundaries of 
‘Ma ’s Legacy,’ and get the good of it.” 

“And stop the crowding and fuss,” Mrs. 
Wilson added. 

“I think the name of your place is as funny 
as our Week names,” Friday grinned. 

“It is,” Mr. Wilson smiled. “You see, ma’s 
old uncle, Jehoshaphat Barton, who owned it, 
lost all his folks ; not one of his own family left ; 
he lived here alone till he got too old and feeble 
to care for himself, then he come to us, and 
ma took care of him — ” 

“And pa fed and clothed him,” ma put in. 

“It did n’t take much, and he was good com- 
pany; we missed him when he went. He left 
the place to ma, and to hear him talk, you ’d 
think he was leaving her a fortune; he always 
called it ‘Ma ’s Legacy ;’ that ’s how the name 
come. But we were glad and thankful for a 

6i 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


spot of ground to get our living out of, and a 
house to shelter us, if neither is much. When 
I get the farming business learned, I expect to 
do well, but just now — '' 

‘‘Now the thing is to get that leg well !” Mrs. 
Wilson interposed, “and I must go fix a fresh 
poultice. Baby’s waked up, too;” she went in- 
side, taking Sunday with her. 

“I tell ye. Uncle Josh meant something 
callin’ this a legacy !” Henry J. declared. 
“There ’s somethin’ about it, somewhere — he 
hinted and hinted — and I ’ll find it yet !” 

Treasure! Friday and Saturday stared, and 
nudged each other. 

“O yes, Henry J. ’s been treasure hunting 
ever since we came. He dug holes and caverns 
in every likely spot for hiding about the yard, 
until it froze up; then he nearly tore the old 
barn down, and racked the house worse than it 
was, if possible, prying and spying. I reckon 
he ’s had every board of this porch up,” Mr. Wil- 
son laughed, indulgently. 

“I do n’t care ! Uncle Josh had too much 
sense to call this rocky old place a legacy if there 
wasn’t somethin’, and besides — ” he stopped, as 
his father continued to laugh. 

“Uncle was an oddity. I don’t suppose he 
62 


AT MA’S LEGACY 


was ever like other folks, and he thought his 
old home, where he ’d lived all his life, was the 
cream of creation. Other people think the same 
of their old home places. It was a fine legacy 
in his eyes.” 

“But I ’m sure there ’s some kind o’ treasure, 
an’ so ’s Winnie,” Henry J. insisted. “He told 
me onct that I ’d find somethin’ here that ’d make 
us rich, if I looked sharp, and he talked about 
digging treasure, too.” 

“He meant the treasure you ’ll get by digging 
the land, working it for crops ; and we ’ll get it, 
too, Henry J., when I ’ve two good legs again. 
I ’ve been studying farming,” he turned to the 
big boys, “since I can’t do anything else; got 
in touch with the Experiment Station, and they 
send me whatever they think will be of use. 
We ’ll find Henry J.’s treasure some day, I guess. 
There, that ’s so it ’ll hold he straightened the 
harness and laid it by carefully. 

“Now for the poultice,” as Mrs. Wilson came 
out. “It is n’t a pretty sight, boys ; you ’d better 
scatter,” he said, beginning to unwind the band- 
ages. 

“Where ’s Sunday ? He must n’t see it. 
He ’s frightened at blood and such things Mon- 
day looked about. 


63 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“O, he’s eating bread and milk with our 
baby in the kitchen. She’s about his size, and 
they ’ve taken a great notion to each other,” 
Mrs. Wilson said, as she carefully removed the 
old poultice. 

“Whe-e-ew! and then some!” Monday ejacu- 
lated, shuddering, when the leg was fully ex- 
posed. “That ’s horrible ! Do n’t you have a 
doctor ?” 

“The only doctor off in this back country 
doesn’t know beans!” Mrs. Wilson declared. 

“We had him and had him, till I do n’t know 
but it ’ll take the place to pay him,” Mr. Wilson 
said, “and I think now, if ma ’d just doctored 
it from the first, it ’d been about well. It seemed 
to me that the stuff he put on made it worse, 
it always irritated it so ; then he said it was blood 
poison — maybe it was; and after months of it, 
spring come, and it worse; he said he could do 
no more and the leg’d have to come off at the 
knee — wanted to saw it off. Me and ma 
would n’t have that, and gave him his walking 
papers. It ’s some better under ma’s treatment, 
but — I do n’t know, I do n’t know ! It ’s a dread- 
ful slow job.” 

“I do n’t see how you stand it at all, and 
keep so cheerful ; it must hurt like sixty !” Tues- 
64 


AT MA’S LEGACY 


day’s face was a little pale as he looked at the 
raw, angry sore, extending from the ankle nearly 
to the knee, on the outer side, swollen out of all 
shape. 

‘‘O, I ’ve sort o’ got used to it. I can stand 
the hurt if we can save the leg; I’ve got to 
have my leg — it ’s a necessity ! And it ’s mak- 
ing hard times for all of us, me being laid up 
so long. We can’t afford to hire work on the 
place, and our little girl, Winnie, has to be boy, 
and she ’s doing work that ’s far too heavy for 
her; I feel that more than the pain of the leg, 
and that ’s why I jumped so at your offer of 
help,” he nodded to Monday. 

‘Ts the harness done, pa?” a young voice 
called ; ‘T ’ve got the plow ready at last.” 

The speaker, a girl of fifteen or so, followed 
her words around the corner of the house, and 
stopped short at sight of the boys. 


6s 


CHAPTER VI 

THE SWOOP ON THE WEEDS 


‘‘HerK 's the young fellow I told you about, 
Freddy, and he ’s brought a lot of help along — 
a whole Week, lacking a day. Left Thursday 
to keep Perkins’s critters out of your camp, I 
reckon;” Mr. Wilson talked on easily, seeing that 
Winnie was a little embarrassed. 

The idea of Thursday being required to do 
anything struck Friday as funny, and he grinned, 
saying: ‘‘O, Thursday’s it! He’s got a lot of 
money; he don’t work; and besides — ” 

‘‘Young man, your megaphone’s slipped a 
cog again,” Tuesday warned, cutting short Fri- 
day’s unpleasant disclosures. 

“We do n’t want any of them to work for 
us when we can’t pay them !” the girl said crisply, 
her black eyes snapping; “we can get along our- 
selves. Come on now, Henry J. !” 

“Gently, daughter, gently,” Mr. Wilson cau- 
tioned. 

She said no more, but picked up the harness, 

66 


THE SWOOP ON THE WEEDS 


stopping a moment to examine the sore limb 
Mrs. Wilson was carefully bathing. 

^Tt looks better, pa!'’ she cried, ‘ht does 
look better, sure. There 's not nearly so much 
proud flesh." 

“That 's what I was thinking," he returned, 
his face brightening. “We 'll save it yet, and 
no thanks to old saw-bones. Got your burnt 
alum, ma? Put 'er on thick, I can stand it." 

“Gee! he's got grit!" Saturday exclaimed, 
admiringly. “That feels like fire; I know, 'cause 
they put it on my stone-bruise onct." 

“Pa has plenty of grit," the girl said, proudly, 
“and we 'll pull through all right too, pa, and not 
bother anybody helping us. Come on, Henry J. !" 
she started off. 

“O Winnie, Winnie!" Mrs. Wilson remon- 
strated, “that 's no way to treat folks that are 
offering a kindness. I 'm glad they 've come to 
help. You and Henry J. 'll never get that patch 
in alone; you can't." 

“We got the potatoes in — lots of them, too," 
Winnie replied. 

“But that was easier plowed, girlie, being 
worked last year," her father reminded her. 
“This 's laid fallow so long, it 's tough. We 're 
going to broadcast kaffir com for fodder; too 
67 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

late for anything else but winter beans — we want 
to try for a good patch of them. I say, ‘we/ 
but it ’s just our boys, Freddy and Henry J.,’’ 
he laughed; he seemed always trying to laugh 
down trouble, but he added, ‘T Ve seen lately 
that the job was altogether too hard for them, 
and like ma, I ’m thankful for a lift. You 
must n’t be too proud to take a helping hand, 
daughter,” he said to Winnie. 

‘Tt is n’t as if I could work at it,” Mrs. Wil- 
son said. “Pa spoke about my gardening — I can 
work around the edges, that ’s all ; seems like 
I ’m sinking clear through when I go on soft 
land; it soon tires me out. Take what ’s offered, 
Winnie; we’ll pay them by helping some one 
else — ‘pass it along.’ ” 

“‘If you’ve had a kindness done you, ^ pass 
it on, pass it on,’ ” Tuesday droned. “We ’ve 
had lots of ’em ; it ’s time we did some passing.” 

Winnie looked at him suspiciously, but Henry 
J. interrupted her sharp retort by suggesting, 
with a chuckle, “Mr. Perkins’s kindness?” 

They all laughed, and Winnie appeared to 
di^op her objections. 

“Well, then,” she turned to Monday, “come 
on ; but I do n’t think we ’ll need all of you at 
once.” 

68 


THE SWOOP ON THE WEEDS 


^‘We'll all find something to do;’’ every boy 
jumped up, alert for action. 

‘T do n’t know how to handle the plow, very 
well,” she said, as they were harnessing up; 
‘T ’m trying to learn ; I suppose I make it harder 
for the horses. It’s hard .enough, anyhow, 
they ’re such a rack of bones ; all run down, like 
most everything else on this place, but ma. 
She ’s so good-natured, she ’d be plump on air, 
I believe.” 

The most any of the boys knew of farming 
was from work in their little home gardens, but 
they were all strong and willing, and as Tuesday 
said, they all knew corn and potatoes from 
weeds. Monday took charge of the plow, strug- 
gling to keep it running in the ground without 
jumping out every few moments, while Winnie 
drove the horses — the plow being as much as 
Monday could undertake, at first. Tuesday 
wielded a hoe in the potato patch, turn about 
with W ednesday, and all the rest pulled weeds in 
the same place — for the potatoes, although green 
and thrifty, were pretty badly swamped with 
weeds. 

There is an inspiration in a company work- 
ing together towards a worthy end, and the boys 
felt a pleasing exhilaration that escaped in quips 
69 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


and jokes and laughter,, to all of which Winnie 
maintained an unresponsive silence as she stolidly 
guided the team across and across the short 
field. 

Suddenly Friday’s spirits overflowed, and he 
burst out at the top of his healthy lungs : 

“ ’T is the swoop of the Week 
On the weeds, weeds, weeds, 

’T is the swoo-o-op, *t is the swo-o-op, 

’T is the swoop of the Week on the weeds. Ki-yi!” 

The others took it up immediately, roaring 
it over and over with the inspiring effect of a 
victorious battalion, while the weeds fell like the 
defeated ranks of a vanquished enemy. Winnie 
stared at first, astonished at the outbreak, but 
presently the unnatural air of reserve she had 
been striving to make appear like dignity fled 
before the wholesome breeze of boyish fun, and 
she laughed till she leaned against the fence for 
support. 

‘Where did you ever find anything so appro- 
priate?” she asked, wiping her eyes. 

“O, that ’s our own make,” Monday an- 
swered proudly. “Behold our poet!” he flour- 
ished towards Tuesday, who in a spasm of mod- 
esty tried to hide behind his hoe handle ; “he ’s 
only got the chorus and a few lines of the song 
70 


THE SWOOP ON THE WEEDS 


yet ; we Ve going to slaughter him if he does n’t 
finish soon.” 

‘T suppose you mean your swoop on ‘Ma ’s 
Legacy;’ how could you get it up so quick?” 
Winnie asked in some wonder; “you were here 
first only day before yesterday.” 

“O, it was manufactured before we knew 
of ‘Ma’s Legacy,’ Miss Winnie. It means our 
swoop over the country coming here ; once it was 
a swoop on a couple of stubborn goats in the 
road ; you ought to ’ve seen the performance,” — 
the boys all roared at the memory. “It means 
our swoop on anything and everything that ’s 
fun and no harm to others; and our swoop on 
the valley down there in particular. It just 
fits the swoop on the weeds, too; let’s have it 
again, boys — all ready!” 

Monday flapped his arms, and the swoop 
rolled out, Winnie catching the fervor and add- 
ing a clear alto herself, beating time with the 
lines on the fence. 

“Hark! That’s pa! I thought he’d be 
stirred up !” she cried. “Look ! he ’s had ma to 
help him to this end of the porch. Hurrah, pa ; 
is n’t this fine ?” She waved her sunbonnet in re- 
sponse to a wildly waggling old hat thrust out 
through the vines. A thin, white face peered 

71 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


laughingly out beneath it, and an answering 
“Hurrah! hurrah!” floated to them. 

“This’ll do pa a world of good,” Winnie 
said. “He ’ll be playing it soon, you ’ll see, or 
hear, rather.” 

“Playing it ?” Monday looked around at her, 
and got a dig from the plow handle in his 
stomach for taking his eyes off it an instant. 

“O, I know that hurt; I ’ve had it dig mje!” 
Winnie cried. 

“A little,” Monday grinned, wincing. “Want 
my whole attention, do you?” — yanking the plow 
— “get jealous if I so much as glance away, do 
you ? — well, you ’ll get it, and get conquered, too ; 
need n’t think I ’m going to stop for one kick !” 
He seized the plow with detei'mined hands, and 
marched on. “What does your pa play?” he 
asked presently, not daring to look up. 

“Violin. And he plays it well, too,” Winnie 
asserted. “He used to play in an orchestra, and 
might have done considerable at it if he could 
have given time to it. There ! I knew he d 
catch it; he picks up a tune so quick.” 

The voice of a violin was heard, feeling its 
way uncertainly along the swoop tune, gaining 
confidence with every trial, until at last it poured 
out the melody in a sweeping stream, upborne 
72 


THE SWOOP ON THE WEEDS 

by resounding chords and scintillating with bril- 
liant arpeggios. 

‘‘My goodness ! can’t he play, though ! 
Makes our little old swoop tune sound like an 
opera!” Tuesday cried in surprised admiration. 

“I think he ’d have been a great player like 
we read of, if he ’d had the training,” Winnie 
said with shining eyes. “Nobody knows what 
pa’s old fiddle has been to him. since he was 
hurt. When he can’t seem to stand it any longer 
and keep still, he plays it out till it ’d make you 
cry. Sometimes in the night we ’ll hear him say, 
‘I ’ll just have to let the old girl holler for me, 
folkses,’ and then he plays and plays, as soft as 
he can; he does so hate to disturb us. It don’t 
keep us awake much, though, we ’re used to 
it; and outdoors so much, we sleep like logs. 
Anyway, none of us care if it ’ll help pa 
bear it.” 

“I should think not,” Monday said, winking 
hard to clear his eyes. “Your pa ’s a hero, and 
deserves the Cross of the Legion of Honor.” 

Winnie looked at him sharply; she had not 
yet given her entire confidence to this gang of 
city youths, whom she feared would jeer at the 
poverty and barrenness at ‘Ma ’s Legacy ;’ but 
Monday’s earnest, respectful face reassured her. 

73 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“The heroes don’t all get decorations,” she 
replied; thai, with a sudden thought, she beck- 
oned to Tuesday and Wednesday to join them: 
“I want to ask all of you boys — I ’ve looked at 
it so much, and I always try to see it better to 
hearten him — but you’ve never seen it before, 
and will see it as it is — does it look to you as if — ’ 
she faltered and caught her breath, “ — as if pa 
would lose his leg, maybe his life?” 

The boys glanced doubtfully at each other. 
Diagnosing was beyond their limit, and they 
hesitated to say how shocking the injured limb 
had appeared to them. 

“O, I see you do think it ’ll — it ’ll kill him !” 
Winnie sobbed, hiding her face. 

“We none of us know a single thing about 
it. I don’t believe one of us ever saw any- 
thing at all like it before. It looks horrible, 
but that ’s not saying he ’ll have to lose his 
leg,” Monday spoke earnestly, and the boys all 
nodded convincingly. 

“O, if he could only have a good doctor! 
He ought to go to a hospital, or have a surgeon. 
I ’d do anything ! only,” she cried despairingly, 
her eyes running over, “I can’t do one thing to 
earn money ! I ’m not quite sixteen yet ; I can’t 
teach, even if I knew enough — but I could n’t 

74 


THE SWOOP ON THE WEEDS 

leave them anyway, I — But there! I mustn’t 
lose heart ; it ’s better lately, I know it is !” 

She started the horses so suddenly that the 
plow almost skewered out of Monday’s hands. 

‘We’re all going to have dinner here; ma 
said so. She ’s making doughnuts !” Sunday 
shrieked, racing out to them, with Nell at his 
heels. 

“But — but we can’t do that,” stammered 
Monday. “ W e ’re glad to come and help a 
little, when your brave pa is in such a hole. 
It ’s just fun, and you ’d all do the same for 
any of us; you know you would. But, Miss 
Winnie, you don’t know, and your mother for- 
gets, what a pile of grub it takes to fill up six 
or seven hungry boys. It would n’t be fair ; we 
can’t do it.” 

“Ma ’ll about have a fit if you do n’t,” Winnie 
smiled, but wondered if her mother’s hospitality 
could possibly stretch the meager stock in the 
family larder to the extent of feeding so many. 

“Well, look here,” said Wednesday, diplo- 
matically, “why can’t we send the boys down 
after our grub, and all picnic together? I want 
one of those doughnuts.” 

“That’s it!” Monday assented. “Here, Fri- 
day, Saturday,” (he hastily scribbled a list in 

75 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

his notebook and gave them the leaf), ‘‘bring 
all I put down, and don’t scatter and spill and 
waste. Of course, Henry J. ’ll have to go along 
to help.” 

With w..d whoops, the trio tore away. 


76 


CHAPTER VII 

THE QUESTION OF THE TREASURE 


Ma WiIvSOn looked a little dubious over the 
picnic arrangement ; yet it was a relief, and they 
lunched hilariously on the porch, steps, and grass, 
everything in common, ‘Tike the apostles of old,’’ 
Pa Wilson remarked, enjoying it hugely. 

They had the history of the origin and or- 
ganization of “The Week of Boys,” and laughed 
with Monday over his ill-luck in incurring fines. 

“I haven’t missed once, ma; not even when 
I was so scared, and almost said T — I mean 
Saturday’s name,” little Sunday crowed. 

“Good for you, honey,” Ma Wilson cheered. 

“Sunday thinks your name is ma, Mrs. Wil- 
son,” Monday said, then added, soberly, “We 
have n’t had any mother since he was about two 
years old.” 

“The poor little angel !” Mrs. Wilson caught 
him up and kissed him; “I am just ma to all 
the boys and girls, honey.” 

“I guess ma’s ’re diff’nt ’n aunties,” Sunday 
said, snuggling in her arms. 

“Our auntie is good, but she never had any 

77 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


boys and girls of her own, and she does n’t un- 
derstand them very well,” Monday explained. 

“You couldn’t Ve been very old, yourself, to 
be left,” Mrs. Wilson said, sympathetically. 

“I was past fourteen. We have one of the 
best fathers in the world. I ’ve seen him walk 
the house with Danny nearly all night, when he 
was so sick ; but he ’s language teacher in the 
college, and is writing a history besides, and has 
hardly ever a minute to spare. Mother was such 
a help to him — I promised her I ’d always help 
him all I could, — and — and Danny was so little, 
she put him in my care. I never leave him.” 

A grave silence had fallen upon the listeners; 
nobody thought of demanding a fine for Danny’s 
name. The boys had known of these things in 
Monday’s life, but had never wSo plainly realized 
the difference in their situations. 

“That ’s what makes you seem so much 
older,” Mrs. Wilson said presently, “having the 
responsibility and the sad experience. These 
other big boys are about your age, I suppose; 
they look it; yet you do seem considerably more 
mature.” 

“There ’s four of us not far from eighteen : 
some a little over, and other some a little under,” 
Tuesday explained. 


78 


THE QUESTION OP THE TREASURE 

‘‘Thursday has n't any father, and his 
mother 's sick all the time," Friday volunteered. 

“And he 's been mostly raised or managed 
by an easy-going uncle only about ten years 
older than he is. Thursday 's used to having 
everything he wants, and having it his own way," 
Wednesday added. 

“That 's a mighty easy way to spoil a boy," 
Mr. Wilson remarked. 

“I guess Thursday 's spoiled all right ; he 's 
a hot one when he tries," Friday grinned; “but 
he’s fun, too; makes things hum." 

“I should say !" Henry J.’s grin rivaled Fri- 
day’s. 

“Look here," Monday turned to Friday; “has 
he been up to anything this morning?" 

Saturday suddenly began turning handsprings 
that quickly took him around the house, out of 
the range of questions, Henry J. tumbling after 
him. Friday clapped his hand over his mouth 
and snickered. 

“Speak, varlet!" Tuesday took a fine pinch 
of his brother’s ear. 

“Wow! I ain’t saying anything! I ain’t 
a-goin’ to have him bounce me! And it ain’t 
no use to ask or command any of us; we’ve 
had our orders." 


79 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“Just tell me one thing,” Monday urged ; “he 
has n’t been rowing with Mr. Perkins again, has 
he?” 

“Guess not; didn’t hear that he had.” 

“O well, anything else he does won’t matter. 
He gets so hot, I ’m a little afraid of his meet- 
ing Mr. Perkins alone,” Monday said to Mrs. 
Wilson. 

“Aw, you need n’t worry ! Mr. Perkins 
could n’t hurt him,” Friday winked mischiev- 
ously, and scurried after the other boys. 

“That Friday boy ’s a regular tease,” Mrs. 
Wilson laughed. 

“What d’ you suppose Thursday ’s been up 
to, boys?” Wednesday asked. 

“He said he was going to hunt up their 
comer stones, you remember,” Monday reminded 
them. 

“It ’ll take a surveyor to tell anything about 
comer stones, in my opinion,” said Mr. Wilson. 
“I ’d have hunted out lines the first thing if it 
had been that easy. The old fences are no guide ; 
some’ve rotted down, some been moved, and 
this and that, till it ’s no telling by them. The 
deeds seem too vague in description, too; why, 
one I saw had a big oak for a corner mark, and 
that oak’s been gone, no one here knows how 
8o 


THE QUESTION OF THE TREASURE 

long. That young fellow ’ll be apt to knock 
against a hornet’s nest for nothing, locating cor- 
ners that way. You’d better move up here; 
there’s a good camping place down at the end 
of the orchard, under those elms; then you could 
leave your camp alone, any time, and things be 
safe.” 

“We ’d do it quick enough,” Monday re- 
turned, “but you could n’t pull Thursday out of 
that bottom now, since Mr. Perkins ordered us 
off. He ’s sure he ’s on his uncle’s land, and 
he ’s going to stay there.” 

“Let us fellows run the team, Miss Winnie,” 
Wednesday said, as they started to work. 

“I believe I know the most about it,” she 
laughed. “Anyway, I want to be at work, 
too.” 

“Where’s all those boys!” Tuesday ex- 
claimed ; “I thought they ’d be pulling weeds.” 

“They ’re treasure hunting, I expect,” Winnie 
said. “Yes, way yonder they are, on the ledge. 
Henry J. thinks the treasure is somewhere about 
that rocky ridge, or the big cliff; we’ve looked 
in so many other places.” 

“What do you think about the treasure?” 
Monday asked. 

Winnie reddened, and poked the dirt with 
* 8i 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


her toe, hesitatingly: ‘‘Sometimes I think there 
is something in it — maybe because I want it to 
be true so much. Uncle Josh never said much 
before pa and ma about it, but he told Henry 
J. and me that if we tried hard, we M find some- 
thing here that’d make us richer than a dozen 
grocery stores ; we were complaining because we 
did n’t have one of our own. Yes, I do believe 
there is some kind of treasure or riches here!” 
she asserted with sudden defiance, let them laugh 
if they choose ! “There must be something more 
than we can get out of the ground by farming; 
but he told Henry J. once that it would have 
to be dug out. He’d just laugh and tell us to 
look sharp, when we begged him to tell us how 
to find it. But then — ” she looked perplexed, 
“he surely did n’t have any money, and he let pa 
provide for him. We never could imagine why 
he would n’t tell us all about it, right out plain.” 

“It is a puzzle,” Monday asserted. 

The boys were becoming much interested in 
the treasure, and stood looking thoughtfully over 
the rough, unattractive exterior of “Ma’s Leg- 
acy,” as if trying to locate the possible hiding 
place. 

“I do wish we could find it, whatever it is, 
82 


THE QUESTION OF THE TREASURE 

now when pa needs it so much/’ Winnie sighed, 
taking up the lines. 

‘‘Say,” Tuesday called presently, “could n’t 
we get up an entertainment at a schoolhouse or 
a church, and raise money to have a surgeon 
come from the city?” 

“Yes, could n’t we?” Monday echoed; “we ’ve 
got our mandolins and guitar along, and could 
play and sing, and speak pieces — and Tuesday 
can get up a brisk little play, or dialogue, that ’ll 
take the whole crowd in^ — ^^have you for the hero- 
ine, and all that.” 

The three boys crowded around her eagerly; 
it seemed to them a fine idea. 

Winnie laughed ruefully. “There ’s no 
chance for that; people never think of charging 
for entertainments at the schoolhouse — they ’d 
feel imposed upon. Folks are not very thick 
around here anyway, and they ’re mostly not very 
well ofif. A few have a lot of land, like Mr. 
Perkins, and raise stock ; I guess he ’s the richest 
one around here.” 

“And he wants the earth, and more,” Wednes- 
day commented, “or I ’d go to him myself and 
ask for a loan to cure his neighbor.” 

“He’d set the dog on you,” Winnie said. 

83 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“I ’ll tell you what, boys,” Monday said ; 
“let ’s rush the work, and all go treasure hunt- 
ins' when it ’s done. There must be something 
in it.” 

“That ’s the thing!” Wednesday cried; “I ’ve 
always wanted to go treasure hunting, and never 
even hoped for as good a chance. Who knows, 
maybe that eccentric old man did have money, 
or heirlooms, something at any rate that was 
very valuable, and he hid it somewhere here on 
purpose to reward those of his relatives who 
stood his test. Was your mother the only rela- 
tion of his that would take him in, when he 
seemed so poor?” 

“I don’t believe he had any other relation. 
We have n’t many, and they ’re all on pa’s side, 
and none of them have anything to spare or I ’d 
go to them for help for pa, quick enough. It 
doesn’t seem possible that Uncle Josh had any- 
thing to hide away, yet — I — don’t — ^know.” 

They worked away in silence for some time, 
then Tuesday, whose mind had been busy with 
the treasure problem, came to the end of the 
“land” where the plowers were turning. 

“Miss Winnie,” he asked, “did that old uncle 
have any wealthy ancestors — foreign, I mean?” 

“I do n’t know about the wealth, but Uncle 

84 


THE QUESTION OF THE TREASURE 

Josh’s mother came from France; her family had 
to leave for political reasons, uncle said.” 

‘‘That ’s it, then ! Likely there were family 
jewels, or valuable heirlooms — gold and silver 
plate — brought over. Many of the exiles con- 
cealed and carried away such things when they 
were forced to leave their country — and they may 
have been handed down in the family, as heir- 
looms, not to be parted with — ^your mother’s 
uncle may have been bound with an oath to pass 
them on down in as direct a family line as he 
could. His children all died, and your mother 
came next, and he took that way of giving them 
to her; he felt bound not to sell them, but he 
surely expected your folks would, or finding the 
treasure would not make you rich.” 

The poetical boy had persuaded himself that 
he had hit upon the solution of the puzzle, and 
his face glowed with enthusiasm and certainty. 

“O, do you think so?” Winnie cried, grate- 
fully and hopefully ; she had hardly dared imagine 
or expect so much. 

“Sounds like a historical romance, old man,” 
Monday said; “but such things have happened — 
there ’s no reason why they should n’t have hap- 
pened here.” 

“And they ’d be buried in a strong, metal 

85 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


box, for that would be safer than hiding in the 
house, which might burn down. And if we find 
the treasure, we are to use it — I know by what 
he said, for just keeping it would n’t do us any 
good. O, we must find it!” Winnie was all 
excitement at this evidence that others believed 
in the existence of a treasure. 

‘Tt ’ll be the greatest fun ever, and the most 
exciting kind of hunting,” Wednesday com- 
mented; ‘‘but we must get the weeds out first.” 

“And this kaffir patch planted,” Monday 
nodded. “It ’s about time those boys got to 
work. They ’ve disappeared entirely ; let ’s yell 
them up.” 

But at that instant Henry J. and Saturday 
came plunging over the crest of the ridge in 
more of a hurry than boys are usually to get to 
work of any kind. They were yelling excitedly — 
it looked like a race. 

“Hurrah!” Wednesday shouted. “The one 
that beats’ll get the most weeds pulled! Now 
watch ’em slow up,” he laughed. 

The boys, seeing that they were observed, 
stopped entirely, and began signaling for them 
to come, pointing back over the ridge, both 
screeching together so their words could not be 
understood. 


86 


CHAPTER VIII 


A FLURRY AND A DISAPPOINT- 
MENT 

“I SHOULD n’t wonder if they ’d found the treas- 
ure!” Tuesday exclaimed. 

Winnie gasped, and tottered at the immensity 
of the suggestion. 

“They ’re yelling something about Friday — ” 

“He ’s staying to watch it !” Tuesday inter- 
rupted Monday, clinging to his idea that the 
treasure was found., 

Winnie dropped the lines and scudded away 
like a scared rabbit; the hoe clanged on the for- 
saken plow; the com knife, with which Wednes- 
day had been cutting weeds, tinkled on the hoe, 
and all three boys leaped after her like pursuing 
hounds. An excited cheer came from the vine- 
sheltered porch, which Winnie answered with a 
shrill, “All right, pa!” over her shoulder as she 
skimmed along. Henry J. and Saturday dropped 
upon the slope and awaited the arrival of the 
quartet, offering bets to each other as to which 

87 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


would win in the sprint across the forty acres of 
old stubble. 

^‘Wednesday, I betche!’’ Saturday howled. 

‘‘No sirree-ee! Winnie — ^Win-ni-fred ! Fred! 
Fred!’’ shrieked Henry J. 

It was neck and neck between Wednesday 
and Winnie, the other two being plainly left 
behind; then the girl’s lithe swiftness began to 
put a space between them. 

“Fred! Fred! Winnifred! Fred! Fred!” 
Henry J. hopped up and down, puffed of a sudden 
with family pride. 

“Have — you — found — it, — Henry J. ?” Win- 
nie panted, flashing up the slope and seizing him, 
“have you found the treasure?” 

“Treasure, nothin!’ Think I ’d stop this side 
o’ pa and ma if we had?” he demanded indig- 
nantly. 

Winnie wilted down, overcome with the hot 
rush and the disappointment. 

“I ’m sorry. Miss Winnie,” Tuesday said, 
apologetically. “It ’s just that brother of mine 
in another scrape, so the boys say. You never 
saw such a fellow for them: put him in a coal 
hole, and he ’d find some way of raising a breeze. 
Let him alone a while, boys; it won’t hurt him 
any;” Tuesday sat down, fanning with his hat. 

88 


A FLURRY AND A DISAPPOINTMENT 


“But I tell ye, the ol’ man sicked the dog 
on us; ’t was n’t Friday’s fault any more ’n 
our ’n !” Saturday spluttered. 

“Is Mr. Perkins’s dog loose?” Winnie cried. 
“He ’s dangerous, he ’s so savage. Did he get 
after you boys — where’s the other one?” She 
looked startled, as if she feared he might have 
been swallowed. 

“Friday’s on top o’ the pulpit, an’ the man- 
eater ’s dancing round and round it on his hind 
legs, just a frothing,” Henry J. chuckled. 

“Friday wuz safe, an’ you c’n bet we got' 
pver the ridge out o’ sight in a hurry,” Saturday 
said. 

“I thought sure they ’d found the treasure — 
great bags of golden cups and flagons, and more 
bags of armoried plate,” Tuesday exclaimed. 

“So did I,” Winnie confessed; “jewels — dia- 
monds, pearls, and every kind ! And we ’d got 
a fortune for them', and pa was cured, and we 
were all whizzing over the country in big, new 
automobiles, before I got here. My ! if we could 
only rush things as our minds can!” 

“Would n’t be enough going on in the world 
to keep us busy,” Monday laughed. “Come on, 
let ’s see what ’s doing over there.” 

On the other side the land sloped away to a 

89 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


wide bottom and the meandering brook Mr. Wil- 
son had spoken of; midway across the bottom, 
on Wilson’s side of the brook, a great rock stood 
up, which they called the pulpit; it could be 
climbed only on one side, and that not easily. 
When they were over the ridge they could hear 
the angry, eager yelps of a dog; also Friday’s 
irrepressible tongue in a taunting monologue, 
as he kicked bits of broken rock in the face of 
his foaming assailant. 

‘‘He’s having a good time,” Tuesday said; 
“you can stake your pile on Friday’s getting all 
the fun there is.” 

“He does n’t seem to need help,” Monday 
smiled; “the dog’s having the worst of it. 
Does n’t seem to be anybody about.” 

Suddenly a shrill whistle sounded again 
and again from the bushes on the opposite 
hill, and the dog departed with lingering reluc- 
tance and many a growling, backward glance of 
menace. 

“Skido-o! Skido-o-o! you little tin purp on 
wheels; get a gait on yourself!” Friday scouted. 
“Better tie a string to him, Alexander-the-Great, 
or he ’ll lose himself!” 

“It would serve you right, young man, if 
90 


A FLURRY AND A DISAPPOINTMENT 


Mr. Perkins should catch you and give you a 
good trouncing for saucing him,” Tuesday said, 
with vexation. 

“I wasn’t yellin’ at Mr. Perkins. It was 
young Alexander-the-Great ; he ’s been up there 
in the bushes sick’n’ the dog on, and snickerin’ 
becuz I did n’t darst to come down. I wish 
he was a little bigger, I ’d make him snicker 
t’ other side o’ his mouth.” 

“But Mr. Perkins was over yonder; I seen 
him,” Henry J. asserted, “and he sicked the dog.” 

“The dog was n’t with him,” Friday declared. 
“You fellers had to run — ^you couldn ’t tell. Mr. 
Perkins was goin’ that way, an’ Alexander come 
down to the bushes an’ sick’d the dog on us.” 

“Then Mr. Perkins wasn’t so little as to set 
the dog on you,” Monday commented ; “I ’d hate 
to think that of him.” 

“He ’d do it, though, if they ’d trespassed, 
as he calls it, on the other side of the brook,” 
Winnie said. “He did once when Henry J. and 
I went across, and he happened to see us; any- 
how, he let the dog come after us, if he did n’t 
set it on; but then — ” she acknowledged, “he 
did n’t let it hurt us ; called it back when we 
were about scared to death.” 


91 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘‘Was n’t he trespassing to-day, himself, if 
he was where the boys say?” Tuesday asked. 

“He claims almost up to the ridge,” Winnie 
explained ; “that ’s why we can’t pasture in this 
bottom. We ’d fix the old fence between, if he ’d 
let us — that is, pa wanted to last year, but 
couldn’t. And every time he fixes it, it crawls 
over this way; look how it slants down there — 
he ’s been at it again.” 

“Well, what was he over this way so far 
for, anyhow?” Wednesday demanded, excitedly; 
“I should n’t wonder — does he prowl about your 
place ?” 

“Yes, he does,” Henry J. replied; “I ’ve seen 
him peeking about among the rocks up here 
on the ridge, and down at the bottom of the 
cliff. There ’s lots of cracks and holes down 
there under the cliff, an’ once when I was lookin’ 
in ’em for the treasure, he come along an’ wanted 
to know what I was after, an’ told me to git out ; 
an’ I said I had a right there an’ would n’t go. 
An’ I did n’t tell ’im what I was a-huntin’, either ; 
an’ after he ’d jawed a while, he went off.” 

“He must know of the treasure, and is hunt- 
ing for it himself!” Tuesday said. 

“O! O! maybe he’ll find it first!” Winnie 
cried. “But it would n’t be his, if he did !” 

92 


A FLURRY AND A DISAPPOINTMENT 


“Looks like that ’s what he ’s up to,” said 
Monday. “It ’s a wonder he did n’t find it when 
your unde left the place.” 

“But he got folks in before he left, — let them 
live here for nothing, to have some one on it. 
They got out for us when we come in — the man 
raised oats on that stubble field. The woman 
told ma they ’d been bothered all the time with 
Mr. Perkins — line fences, and his prowling 
around, almost up to the house sometimes, till 
she threatened to have him arrested if he did n’t 
stay away. They had some big quarrels, I guess. 
Do you think he was looking for the treasure?” 

“Of course he was,” Tuesday asserted; “it 
shows he ’d found out something about it, and it 
shows, too, that it has n’t been found yet — not 
by him, anyway. Say, boys, we’ve got to find 
that treasure.” 

They remembered the work presently, and the 
horses waiting, and climbed the ridge, being sure 
that the smaller boys were all along to go at 
weed-pulling again. 

“If there isn’t Ma Wilson!” cried Winnie, 
who was first. “What ’s the matter, ma ?” 

Mrs. Wilson, puffing and perspiring, sat down 
on a rock near the top, wiping her wet face, while 
they crowded around her. 

93 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“There ’s nothing the matter, unless it ’s 
something up here. You all hiked off so like a 
house afire, and did n’t come right back, and pa 
was sure something had happened. I started 
Sunday and Nell to find out, but they could n’t 
get past the duck pond and the little, swimming 
ducks (it is a cute sight!) so I come myself. 
My ! but it ’s a hot walk, and climb ! but now 
I ’m here I want to go clear to the top and see 
how it looks.” 

With a good deal of laughter, Winnie and 
the boys helped her to the top, and she walked 
to the cliff, that fell sheer and almost straight 
to the bottom below — a frightful looking place 
to fall from. She peered over and around curi- 
ously. “It ’s a good hiding place,” she said, ab- 
sently ; “I do n’t wonder Henry J. wants to look 
here.” 

“Why, Ma Wilson ! that sounds just like you 
believed in the treasure, too!” Winnie cried, as- 
tonished. 

“Uncle Josh was nobody’s fool,” Mrs. Wilson 
said, her red face growing redder; “I never said I 
did n’t believe in it — I do n’t know what to be- 
lieve, or think, only that there must be something! 
and my land ! how I do wish we could get hold 
of it now, when pa needs it so bad!” 

94 


A FLURRY AND A DISAPPOINTMENT 


course there ’s something, and Mr. Per- 
kins knows of it, and that ’s why he prowls about 
and crowds and fusses at you folks so. He hopes 
to drive you off,’’ Tuesday said, eagerly. 

^‘Well there!’’ Mrs. Wilson stopped in her 
descent; ‘‘maybe that ’s so; I never thought of it, 
but it accounts for a good deal,” then she laughed 
heartily. “I ’m every bit as bad as you children, 
Winnie. How pa would laugh at me! Like as 
not it ’s as he says — only the treasure we ’ll dig 
out by good farming. Uncle Josh was very old, 
and childish.” 

She laughed again at the recital of Friday’s 
pulpit scrape, warned them all to look out for 
that dog, and keep back from that awful cliff; 
and went on to tell the whole to pa, who was 
waiting, his eager face thrust through the hole 
in the vines. 

Before setting to work again, the boys called 
a council of all of them, big and little, and it 
was agreed, though somewhat reluctantly by Fri- 
day, Saturday, and Henry J., that there should 
be no more treasure hunting until the work was 
done — that meant the big potato patch hoed and 
plowed, the corn cleaned out, the kafhr com 
planted, garden in good shape, and weeds around 
the edges cut down. 


95 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


There was not as much as it sounded in the 
telling, and Winnie said she knew where they 
could borrow a couple of hoes, which would 
hurry things on, as all the big boys could work 
to advantage then. 

They planned a system by which they would 
“push the whole business along at once,'’ as 
Wednesday said. Then they all fell to and put 
in several hours’ steady work, that made such an 
improvement in the looks of the place that Pa 
Wilson’s face quite glowed as he thanked them 
that evening. 


96 


CHAPTER IX 


THURSDAY FINDS A CORNER 
STONE 

“Well!” Monday ejaculated, looking about, not 
finding the tent where they left it. Saturday and 
Friday fell upon each other in a paroxysm of 
glee, and rolled on the ground. 

“So, that was what you wasn’t to tell, hey?” 
Tuesday asked. “He must have had a time of 
it, alone.” 

“You bet!” Wednesday agreed. “Had to 
pull so much of the fence down to get out ; worked 
harder than we did, and no fun either.” 

“He thinks it ’s fun. And there is a sort 
of what you might call fun in having your own 
way,” Monday said. 

Little Sunday, who had been gazing around 
bewildered, suddenly began to cry, and ran to 
his brother, sobbing: “I want to go back to 
ma’s, and stay at her house; Thursday’s taken 
our tent house and gone home. I want to go 
back to ma’s and stay in her house.” 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“O no, Thursday has n’t gone home, he ’s 
just moved again;” Monday put the child upon 
his shoulder, saying, “We ’d better hunt up camp, 
boys, before it gets any darker.” 

The shadows were already heavy in the bot- 
tom, and a lonely, forsaken atmosphere hung over 
the deserted camping place. 

“He was making things fly, tearing up when 
we were here,” Friday said. “I do n’t know why 
he ordered us to keep our mouths shut, ’less he 
thought you big fellers ’d come down and try to 
stop him.” 

“Aw, ’t was n’t that at all,” disputed Satur- 
day. “You an’ Henry J. snickered, an’ made 
him boil.” 

“An’ you snickered, too,” Friday retorted. 

“O, shut up !” Wednesday said. “I should n’t 
wonder if you little scamps did n’t aggravate him 
into doing it.” 

“We never! He had it tore up when we 
come !” 

“Of course, he ’s moved nearer the Perkins 
place, and that must mean another row with the 
old man,” Monday said. 

When they had passed through a strip of 
thicker young woods, the cheerful blaze of a 
campfire showed a little distance on. 

98 


THURSDAY FINDS A CORNER STONE 


‘‘Smell! smell!’’ shouted Saturday, as they 
neared the new camp. 

“Chicken! chicken!” cried Friday. 

“Chick’n, chick’n,” echoed little Sunday ; 
“don’t it smell good?” 

It smelled good to all the boys, with their 
healthy appetites sharpened by outdoor exercise, 
and they rushed upon the camp with exclama- 
tions of satisfaction. 

“Feels like coming home; looks like it, too,” 
Monday declared, appreciatively, the big fire, the 
small miner’s stove (which had not been set up 
before), steaming with cooking utensils, bearing 
out the declaration. 

“Smells like coming home also, and the kind 
‘mother cooks,’ ” Wednesday sniffed the bubbling 
dinner pot. 

“Old man’s hen roost?” Tuesday queried, 
laughing; “don’t care if it is; I ’ll eat my share 
and settle afterwards.” 

“Bought it, of course,” Monday guessed; “but 
say, you ’ve got it fixed dandy here ! Thought 
we would n’t need the fence, I suppose.” 

“Glad you like it,” Thursday beamed upon 
his companions, in high good humor. “Think 
it ’s pretty so-so, myself. No, I decided our rov- 
ing tent better not be fenced — easier pulling out. 

99 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


I see you’re starving; get ready, and I’ll tell 
you particulars while we eat.” 

“I want some chick’n, quick, please;” Sunday, 
having dashed his hands through the basin of 
water, was first at the oil-cloth, holding out a 
plate. 

“Can’t have any chicken, kiddie. Guess what 
it is,” Thursday said, smiling at the cries of 
hungry remonstrance. 

“Can’t! Too hungry! Don’t care if it’s 
frogs’ legs, let ’s have it ! We ’ll eat it, or them — 
bought, strayed, or stolen.” 

“It does smell like chicken,” Thursday began, 
heaping the plates; “I thought you’d guess the 
first thing, soon as you got in sniffing distance. 
It ’s squirrel ! Shot a couple — ^big ones — this 
morning, and I set up the stove, and made a 
regular potpie, potatoes, lots of gravy, and dump- 
lings — recipe on the baking-powder can : did n’t 
have the eggs, used condensed for milk; don’t 
know how good they ’ll be — look all right, 
though.” 

“Taste all right, too, you bet!” Friday ex- 
claimed fervently, through a full mouth. “Hope 
you ’ve got a lot.” 

“Kettle full — eat away,” Thursday smiled. 


lOO 


THURSDAY FINDS A CORNER STONE 

'‘Great!’’ Wednesday burst out. "We can 
have squirrel every day: trees full of ’em, ripe 
for picking.” 

"Mr. Perkins ordered us not to pick ’em, 
though,” Thursday replied; "said I was up 
against the game law, shooting ’em now, and he 
warned me good and plenty what ’d happen if — ” 

"So you did see him,” Monday broke in. 

"Saw him twice. I do n’t believe he ’s doing 
anything these days, but sneak about watching 
us.” 

"Also the Wilson place,” added Wednesday. 

"Where did you get your squirrels?” Mon- 
day asked. 

"O, I see what ’s coming,” Thursday laughed. 
"Yes, I was up the hill over there towards his 
house; not in sight of it, though. I was looking 
for boundary lines, or corner signs of some kind, 
— ought to be up there; had my gun along, the 
squirrels were capering over my head, thought 
I ’d have a couple for supper ; the smoke had n’t 
cleared away before Mr. P. appeared on his side 
the fence and let out on me. Mr. P. has all the 
words he needs, and then some, when he tries,” 
Thursday stopped, and began eating rapidly, as 
if his tale was finished. 


lOI 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“Aw, go on ! What happened ?” 

“Want it all, do you? O, there was nothin’ 
doing, really. He blew out a lot of orders, as 
if he expected ’em to be obeyed; I offered him 
a compromise ; no go — nothing to compromise on, 
in his opinion; warned me that he had a dog 
that’d take hunks out of trespassers; been re- 
straining the beast out of consideration for our 
ignorance, etc.; but henceforth w,e’d have to 
keep our eyes out, or lose a few calves, and such. 
I told him to send down his pet any time, he ’d 
get a warm welcome; I ’d keep the gun ready 
on purpose. The air heated up so then, it was 
uncomfortable, and I came away, for I was in 
a hurry to get moved.” 

“You said you saw him twice,” Monday re- 
minded him. 

“I did. After I got moved and our supper 
stewing, I went down to the river corner ; our land 
does n’t cross the river, and there must be some- 
thing to show the corner down there, anyway, 
and I found it, too!” he nodded emphatically. 
“That old fellow must ’ve been trotting along 
that fence all day, for — ” 

“No he wasn’t; he was up yonder in the 
hollow back of Wilson’s, just after noon,” Friday 
interrupted. 


102 


THURSDAY FINDS A CORNER STONE 


‘‘His fence worms along from the big road 
away out there, clear down to the river, so he 
might Ve been patrolling the length of it to see 
if he could find any of us inside; I suppose 
he ’d have a right to call that trespassing,’’ 
Wednesday said. 

“That ’s just what he did. But the tres- 
passing is on his side. I saw a big, flat stone 
over in his field, down there in the corner — it ’s 
some rods inside his fence, and I ’m sure it ’s 
our corner stone, and he ’s that far on our land !” 
Thursday declared, hotly. “I was just climbing 
the fence when the old fellow popped up again ; 
that line of scrub along his fence makes a fine 
sneaking place ; he was almost frothing this time ; 
threatened to have the law on us — called us a 
pack of lazy, trespassing hoodlums, etc., then 
began to call the dog. I did n’t have the gun, 
worse luck ! I had n’t expected he ’d be down 
there, and as I did n’t feel like parting with any 
of my meat, I sauntered off. But I tell you, 
boys,” Thursday’s eyes blazed, “that old fellow 
is about as mean as they make them ! He 
could n’t let me go decent, but got on the fence — ” 

“And flapped his wings, and cro-o-wed,” in- 
terposed Friday. 

“That ’s what !” Thursday laughed with the 
103 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


rest, “but I ’m going to see that stone ! He has 
some good reason for keeping me out. I ’ll see 
it if I have to fight my way to it!” 

Monday looked troubled and sat silent, while 
the rest expressed opinions more or less unflat- 
tering to Mr. Perkins, Alexander-the-Great, and 
the man-eater. 

“What’s the matter, old Fair-o’-face?” 
Thursday inquired, “did n’t I behave as I should 
in coming away, or ought I to have grabbed a 
club and knocked the stuffing out of his Buster- 
Brown-Tige? I’d rather settle him with the 
gun — hate to muss up things, smashing him.” 

“Thursday, I wish you ’d promise never to 
carry the gun again. We can get along without 
squirrel, and it may be against the game law to 
shoOt them now; I don’t know; anyway, old 
fellow, I wish you ’d leave the gun,” Monday 
said, coaxingly. 

“I would n’t shoot the little old sneak, any 
more than you would,” Thursday returned, “if 
that ’s what you ’re thinking of. But he ’d better 
look out for the dog — he ’ll not chaw me, and 
get away with the bite, that ’s sure I” 

The smaller boys cheered enthusiastically. 

“Why do n’t you get the county surveyor to 
find where you ’re at ?” Tuesday asked. 

104 


THURSDAY FINDS A CORNER STONE 


‘T won’t do it and bear all the expense. I 
offered to go halves on having the line run out 
between us, this morning, and he nearly exploded 
at the notion : he ’s right, he knows he ’s right ; 
won’t waste a cent ; according to what he let out, 
he claims up beyond where we camped first, and 
he dared me to prove him wrong. I know his 
land can’t run this side of his fence, and I ’m 
pretty sure that his fence is some rods on us; 
and therefore, I ’m going to see that stone in 
spite of him.” 

“Well, do n’t lay yourself liable to the law 
in any way,” Monday cautioned, then changed 
the subject: “It was fine of you, old man, to 
have a good supper ready for us. Say, I wish 
you ’d come up with us in the morning and get 
acquainted ; you need n’t work if you do n’t care 
to. They ’re nice folks up there.” 

Thursday shook his head, looking sullen and 
stubborn; but he opened his eyes over the story 
of the treasure, and listened with much interest 
as they talked it over eagerly; all the other boys 
were convinced there was a treasure. 

“Old man Perkins knows of it, too, whatever 
it is,” Wednesday said. “He means to worry 
those folks till they ’ll be glad to sell out for 
anything he’s a mind to give; then you ’ll see.” 

105 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

"Maybe,” Thursday said, evasively, “but how 
about his jumping on us so? There may be a 
treasure — sounds like it, and he may know of it ; 
but he ’s a natural-born hog just the same, and 
wants everything next. Our land ’s been lying 
here open so long, and he ’s used it, asking leave 
of no one, till he’s come to feel he owns the 
whole river bottom. Of course he was hot when 
we butted in, but he ’ll be hotter, or I ’m mis- 
taken !” 

“Did n’t like our swoop on Happy Valley a 
little bit,” giggled Friday. 


io6 


CHAPTER X 


“IF YOU MEET A CRIPPLED 
BROTHER” 

“Our swoop fizzled out, and mighty little fun 
to anybody,” Thursday retorted, with a return 
of ill-humor, as he called to mind his grievance; 
“you fellows went back on our plans, and spoiled 
everything.” 

“If we ’d never gone up to ‘Ma ’s Legacy’ and 
got acquainted, we ’d never heard of the treas- 
ure,” Friday asserted, quickly. He could see 
plenty of fun in treasure hunting. 

“What good is it going to be to you fellows, 
even if you find it, after spending all your vaca- 
tion working, and hunting it,” Thursday said, 
sarcastically. 

Friday and Saturday looked a little down in 
the mouth at that ; they had n’t thought of having 
a share, still it had seemled as if they were in it 
somehow, with Henry J. ; they cheered up when 
Wednesday declared it was going to be great 
fun hunting it, anyway, and they all hoped to 
find it, for Mr. Wilson’s sake. 

“Won’t have much time for treasure hunting, 
107 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


if you clean out the Paganini weed patch first/’ 
Thursday sneered unpleasantly on the name, a 
sneer directed at the boys’ enthusiastic admira- 
tion of Mr. Wilson’s violin playing. 

‘T just wish you could hear Mr. Wilson play/’ 
Monday returned, a little offended; ‘‘and our 
helping up there had nothing to do with the 
trouble with Mr. Perkins, that you ’re giving all 
your time to. There would n’t have been much 
fun here anyhow, unless you ’d been willing to 
drop the fuss and go — ” 

“And have old Perkins swell around, boast- 
ing that he ’d run us out !” Thursday inter- 
rupted. “I see myself!” 

“Well, then,” Tuesday said, “you can’t really 
have a grouch at us over spoiled plans; ’t is n’t 
fair — we’re about of a whatness in it.” 

“Aw, I do n’t care what you do ! I’m going 
to bed.” 

“O say, let ’s have our music first,” Monday 
coaxed. “We can all agree orf that, anyway. 
And I do n’t see that we need think our fun ’s 
all spoiled. We ’ll be through up there in a few 
days — so many of us at it ; and I ’ll tell you 
what I wish we could do, what ’d be fine fun 
if we ’d all pull together, as we meant to when we 
came.” 

io8 


‘‘IF YOU MEET A CRIPPLED BROTHERS 


Thursday sat down again, with his mandolin, 
not very pleasantly, but willing to listen. 

“You know that place up there where the 
river is shallow?'’ Monday looked about; they 
all nodded expectantly. “Just below, the water 
cuts into the bank, makes a nice cove ; let ’s go 
up there and build a boathouse and — ” 

“No boats, no boats! Ha, ha, ha!” they 
yelled. 

Monday went on calmly; “And make dug- 
outs, real Indian canoes; lots of big, hollow logs 
about — and we could make an Indian village of 
wigwams out of poles and leafy branches — you 
remember that article told us how — and we ’d 
build rafts, and be regular old pioneers, do as 
they used to — ” 

“And I ’ll tell you,” Thursday jumped up, “I 
can get this land of uncle for what it cost him, 
and I will. We ’ll make it a golf course, and 
pony polo, and I ’ll get lumber and we ’ll build 
a permanent club house for the Week, and stay 
all summer, and I ’ll have my ponies — ” 

“Hold on! You ’re running away,” Monday 
laughed ; “that ’s all right in time, but we can 
have our fun now and no expense, only maybe 
for a few tools. We ’d drive a row of stakes 
out in the shallows on that sandy bottom to mark 
109 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


the danger line, and even Sunday could paddle 
about in the water there; we all would until 
we got so we could manage the canoes and rafts, 
then we ’d go on fishing excursions down — ” 

‘‘Hurrah ! hurrah Friday and Saturday bub- 
bled. 

“But we 'd have to move up there,’’ Monday 
said, with a side glance at Thursday. 

“And let old Perkins slide?” Thursday asked. 
Monday nodded. 

Everybody sat silent, waiting his decision. It 
was an attractive picture, and Thursday thought 
it over, softly tinkling to Tuesday’s low accom- 
paniment. There would be more fun and genuine 
pleasure in carrying out Monday’s proposition 
than in anything they had planned, but — it was 
giving up the fight with Mr. Perkins, it was 
abandoning the battlefield, retreating, and that 
was a bitter pill to the young fellow, who had 
all his life made other folks do the retreating. 
Suddenly he brightened and drew a long breath ; 
the rest leaned towards him eagerly, feeling it 
was going to be all right. 

Thursday looked around, laughing a little. 
“I haven’t any fault to find with your plan, 
Monday,” he said ; “in fact, I can see how we ’d 
have more fun and a better time than we ever 


no 


‘‘IF YOU MEET A CRIPPLED BROTHER’ 


thought of, but — did you notice? — you propose 
that I shall do all the giving up, every bit of 
it ! — and it ’s awfully tough on me, pulling out 
and leaving Mr. P. to flaunt the flag of victory ! 
I can’t do it without support. You fellows must 
do some giving up, too. I ’ll go halves, as I 
offered about the surveying, another compromise 
• — I ’ll drop hostilities, line fences, corner stones, 
and all, and move up there where he can’t pos- 
sibly invent a claim or an excuse to disturb us, 
if” — he grinned — “if you ’ll give up your farm- 
ing scheme, drop it entirely, never do another 
lick, nor go up to Wilson’s again for anything. 
I ’ll give everything the go-by, and begin over, 
as if we ’d just swooped dowti here, if you ’ll 
do the same. Fair, is n’t it ?” he looked around 
triumphantly. 

Monday smothered an exclamation, and all 
the big boys gazed silently into- the fire, avoiding 
Thursday’s eyes. Friday and Saturday stared 
at each other doubtfully. They could give up 
the weed-pulling all right, but there were other 
things — plenty of ripening apples, Henry J. and 
his pranks, kind Pa and Ma Wilson — dough- 
nuts, milk, and most of all, the Treasure! They 
were not going to forego the exciting possibility 
of finding it! 


1 1 1 


THE SWOOP OP THE WEEK 


‘‘Don’t all speak at once!” Thursday jeered, 
presently. 

“It looks fair, as you put it,” Monday said, 
slowly. “Of course, you should n’t be expected 
to do all the giving up, I ’ll admit that ; but the 
circumstances are so different — ” 

“Not at all !” Thursday declared. “It ’s just 
what you fellows want to do, against what I 
want to do; and I stick to it, that to be fair we 
all ought to quit everything and begin over.” 

“But what you want to do is no good — just 
rowing and fussing!” Friday asserted, “and 
we ’re going to help — ” 

“O yes, you ’re a pious lot — regular Salva- 
tion Army, all but the drums and the red rags 
on yourselves !” Thursday ha-ha ’d aggravatingly. 

Friday howled, and leaped at him, striking 
furiously, in such a rage that he struck his brother 
blindly, as Tuesday caught and held him, saying: 

“Squirm it out, old fire-eater ! That ’s the 
way we all feel, so we can excuse your explo- 
sion; but suppose we all set on Thursday like 
that — there would n’t be enough left of him to 
send home in a tomato-can.” 

Friday settled down again, still glaring at 
Thursday, and muttering under his breath; and 
Wednesday, who had always been chummy with 


II2 


“IF YOU MEET A CRIPPLED BROTHER” 


Thursday and usually sided with him, surprised 
them by saying’ vehemently: 

“I would n’t leave them in the fix they ’re 
in up there without doing what I could to help 
them out, for all your money, Steve Rayburn!’’ 

“Nickel!” demanded Friday hurriedly, his 
powder-flash not interfering with his pleasure in 
collecting fines. 

“I ’d feel myself such a sneak, if I did,” 
Wednesday went on, dropping the coin in Fri- 
day’s grimy paw, “I ’d hate to see myself in the 
glass.” 

Monday had a temper that seldom showed, 
but which gave him trouble to control at times, 
and he had spent some minutes getting the better 
of it, so he could speak calmly. 

“If you could see that man’s leg, Thursday,” 
he said at length; “a great, ra’W, swollen sore 
from there to there,” measuring on his leg, “and 
the way he looks — so thin and white, showing 
how he suffers, yet so bright and brave, trying 
to make light of it and no complaint, only anxious 
for his family — and not a cent to get the surgeon 
he ought to have, or hire the crops taken care of 
that is all they have to look to for their living, — 
like Wednesday, I ’d be shy of looking myself 
in the face if — ” 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘Tf you were not a whole lot better than I 
am/’ Thursday put in. ‘‘Fine opinion you fel- 
lows have of me, just because I can’t see things 
as you do, and won’t be bossed by you. There 
is n’t a bit of use arguing ! As I told you when 
you proposed the farmhand scheme, it isn’t our 
business. We’re not responsible for the lame 
and halt and blind beggars of the world ; we can’t 
change it, and it ’s no use spoiling our vacation 
and loading ourselves with the bothers of others. 
Folks have to take things as they come — they 
up there as well as the rest of us.” 

Thursday was entirely sincere; take care of 
number one, and let the other fellow do the same, 
seemed perfectly fair to him ; he would n’t ask 
anybody to help him, and did n’t see why he 
should be expected to help other folks. “That ’s 
so, is n’t it ?” he asked, as no one replied to his 
speech. 

The boys were still silent, but presently Tues- 
day, grinning slyly, and weaving his body from 
side to side keeping time, began a sing-song 
improvisation : 

“If you meet a crippled brother, 

Lend a leg! lend a leg! 

You ’ll be paid some day or other, 

Lend a leg! lend a leg!” 


“IF YOU MEET A CRIPPLED BROTHER’ 


“I ’ve got two good legs to lend, and two 
hands, though they ’re some busted up to-night, 
not being used to farming, but these legs are all 
right;” he stretched them out, and again took 
up his song: 

“If you meet a crippled brother, 

Lend a leg, lend a leg!” 

Friday and Saturday, kicking” wildly to show 
the healthy state of their legs, took it up, yelling 
at the top of their voices, ‘‘Lend a leg! lend a 
leg!’’ 

The ridiculous couplet seemed catching, and 
presently every one but Thursday was. swaying 
from side to side, shouting between spurts of 
laughter : 

“If you meet a crippled brother, 

Lend a leg, lend a leg! 

You ’ll be paid some day or other, 

Lend a leg, lend a leg!” 

The effect was heightened when Monday, with 
mandolin, and Tuesday, with guitar, strummed 
an accompaniment. 

“Black your faces, and you ’d pass for a 
nigger show,” Thursday sneered. His dignity 
was touched, and he disdained even a smile; 
when the song stopped from breathlessness and 
laughter, he said, curtly: 

115 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘T suppose you mean me to understand that 
you fellows are going your way, and I ’m to 
go mine. That 's all right, only there ’s to be 
no interferenee on either side, remember that!'’ 

‘‘And we 're all good friends, and no hard 
feelings ; shake on that, old man," Monday said, 
holding out his hand. Thursday hesitated, but 
finally shook hands; the rest all did the sarne 
with more or less monkeying, all but Friday, 
who tucked his hands behind him, exclaiming: 

“No, sir I" I 've got hard feelings, and I 'm 
goin' to keep 'em, too, till he takes it back about 
the Salvationists." 

The rest roared; Thursday himself laughed 
a little, saying: 

“I do, man Friday, I do! You're not it! 
You 'll never be good enough to be it, either." 

“Well then, I don't care. Here goes!" Fri- 
day gave Thursday's hand a twist, and drop- 
ping down, began unlacing his shoes, saying : 
“Let 's just holler the swoop to-night. I want 
to go to bunk." And he immediately led off : 
“ 'T is the swoop of the Week, on the weeds, 
weeds, weeds," fitting words about Ma's Leg- 
acy to the tune, helped at a lively rate by Satur- 
day. 

The bunks were piles of dry leaves and moss, 

ii6 


YOU MEET A CRIPPLED BROTHERS 


with blankets spread over them — the only kind 
of bed worthy of real campers, as every boy 
knows. 

They were all somewhat tired, and glad to 
"‘go to bunk,^’ an expression that little Sunday 
thought so funny that he kept repeating it, gig- 
gling sleepily, after they were all abed. He 
roused once ill the night in a sudden fright; he 
thought he felt something pull at him, as if try- 
ing to claw him out under the tent. He whis- 
pered to Monday and shook him a little, but 
could not wake him easily, so he crawled over 
to the safer front side and went to sleep. He 
remembered it in the morning, though, and let 
Saturday get out first and blow the horn. 


CHAPTER XI 

THE EVAPORATED PANTS 


“So YOU tumbled over me in the night, did you, 
kiddie? And I didn’t know when you moved,” 
Monday laughed, finding Sunday in front. 

Sunday sat up, his big eyes bigger: “I 
crawled over ’cause a bear tried to get me, and 
I could n’t make you wake up.” 

Monday chucked him under the chin, saying : 
“There’s no bears here, little man; you just 
dreamed it.” 

“But something did pull at me just like it 
reached under the tent to claw me out,” Sunday 
persisted. 

“It was an old nightmare, and I ’ll shoot 
her next time,” Thursday promised ; “I ’ll have 
the gun handy to-night, and you come and pinch 
me awake; we’ll fix her.” 

Sunday laughed, and curled down for another 
nap. 

“You fellows need n’t hurry up; it ’s my turn 
to cook, you know, and I ’ve got to make biscuit ; 
ii8 


THE EVAPORATED PANTS 


bread ’s most out,” Monday said, implying the 
biscuit making would take time. 

“Say,” he called, a few minutes later, flinging 
things about, “my pants seem to have evap- 
orated, or some of you have hidden them.” 

“Guess again,” Tuesday advised, snuggling 
in his blanket. 

Friday and Saturday, who were out building 
up the camp-fire, which chore they claimed and 
hugely enjoyed, bounced into the tent, looking 
scared and wildly excited. 

“We ’ve got to get out o’ here, an’ quick, too !” 
Friday quavered. “They got their warning out 
there, an’ ye don’t catch me stayin’ here — when 
it ’s lighter in the woods, I ’m goin’ up to Ma’s 
Legacy — ” 

“Me, too !” Saturday exclaimed, crowding 
close to Wednesday. “I betche it ’s a gang, an’ 
he ’s one o’ them — ” “ — ^Yes sir, capt’n maybe, 

an’ he ’s been tryin’ to make us leave ’cause we ’d 
got on to ’em — ” “ — Betche they ’ve got a 

hidin’ place ’long the river bluffs — ” “ — ^Where 
they keep the money ’n’ stuff they rob folks of, 
an’ he knows ’bout the treasure — ” 

“What ’s the matter with them — gone luny, 
do you think?” Monday asked, breaking into 
the mixed, hurried sentences ; “I ’d say the ras- 
119 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


cals were trying another trick on us if they 
didn’t look so scared,” Monday regarded the 
two suspiciously; they were good at “make be- 
lieve.” 

“I guess it ’s genuine, whatever it is,” said 
Wednesday. They were all hustling into their 
clothes. 

“Must be Sunday’s bear is out there. I ’ll 
get him if he is Thursday dashed for the wagon 
and the gun, followed by all the boys except little 
Sunday, and Monday, who was excitedly de- 
manding his pants, and tearing the bunks to 
pieces in his efforts to find them. 

“It’s the bandits’ sign! — an’ we’ve got to 
get out o’ here!” Friday and Saturday were de- 
claring together, over and over. 

“Look here, fellows,” Monday called sharply, 
sticking his head out of the tent, “fun ’s fun, 
but you ’ve no business keeping my pants ; I want 
to see what ’s doing, too !” 

“We haven’t got your old panties!” Thurs- 
day retorted. “Fling a blanket around you, and 
come on. It does look banditty, for sure, but 
it ’s only our friend, Mr. P., of course.” 

“He must have been reading dime novels,” 
commented Tuesday. 


120 


THE EVAPORATED PANTS 


‘T do n’t believe it ’s him alone — he ’s in with 
the bandits, an’ they ’re goin’ to drive us away 
or — ” 

‘‘Or kill us!” Friday helped Saturday finish. 

“That ’s my knife!” Monday, who was trail- 
ing around in a blanket, seized the knife, whose 
small blade pinned to a tree a ragged paper, upon 
which was crudely drawn a somewhat frightful 
death’s head and cross-bones. “It was taken out 
of my pants pocket, and my pants were taken 
out of the tent.” 

“Sunday’s bear!” they shouted. 

“And he did feel something pulling at him. 
Never mind, don’t be scared, kiddie; you shall 
sleep on the inside, and we won’t let anything 
get you.” Monday picked up his little brother, 
who was clutching the blanket, whimpering. 

“I wish he ’d screeched like a catamount, and 
waked us,” Thursday cried, “I ’d just like to ’ve 
caught the old fellow at it, that ’s all !” 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” said Monday; 
“but if I do n’t find my leg covers, I ’m going 
up there in this Roman toga and ask him for 
’em, or for a pair of his old ones.” 

“Gee! what’s that?” Friday screeched, point- 
ing a shaky finger. 


I2I 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘Tt — it looks like a — a man they Ve hung!’' 
Saturday squealed. 

A fresh breeze had sprung up and set sway- 
ing a long, dark object in the trees beyond a 
thicket. Dimly showing in the leafy gloom, it 
did resemble a hanging man. 

‘‘My pants, of course,” Monday said, and they 
rushed for the spot. 

“Well, that ^s the boldest yet !” Thursday ex- 
claimed. 

“There 's no harm done, as I can see,” Mon- 
day examined his recovered property. 

“But think of the gall of it! Stolen from 
under our noses. I suppose he wants us to see 
how easy it would be for him to clean us out — 
and the wagon may be looted. I wonder he 
did n’t take the gun !” 

Nothing had been disturbed in the wagon, 
however ; but underneath it they discovered an im- 
pression in the soft, woodsy soil, as if a person 
or persons had crouched there. 

“The prowling old sneak !” Thursday stormed. 
“The old eavesdropper ! I ’d have thrown fire- 
brands at him if I ’d got a sight of him there.” 

“And set the wagon afire, popped off the 
powder, and wrecked things generally,” Tues- 
day enumerated. 


122 


THE EVAPORATED PANTS 


^^After all, we don’t know it was the old 
man,” Wednesday said, ‘‘and we’ve tracked 
around so much, we can’t tell anything from the 
ground.” 

Behind the tent, where the pants had been 
pulled out, the soil had been scraped away till 
it was easy to reach under, and it had been 
smoothed afterwards to remove impressions. 

“Just wanted to show his dexterity,” Mon- 
day concluded. “I tossed my pants over there 
on the foot; I suppose they were right against 
the tent, and the first thing he got hold of that 
he could pull out. He could n’t pull Sunday 
out that way, he’s too big.” Sunday laughed, 
feeling better at that. “Cute idea,” Monday 
added, “use my knife to stick up that chromo.” 

“I consider that chromo a serious threat,” 
Thursday said; “that’s what it’s used for al- 
ways.” 

“It’s the true bandit warning!” Friday de- 
clared, encouraged by Thursday’s view of it, and 
also convinced that he and Saturday were right 
about the bandit gang and Mr. Perkins’s con- 
nection with it. 

In this they were fully supported by Henry J., 
who appeared as they were at breakfast. He 
brought a roll of butter, a pail of milk, and a 
123 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


loaf of bread from Ma Wilson, with a kind 
message that she would bake their bread for 
them. 

“Hurrah!’’ cried Monday; having had no 
time for biscuits after all the fuss, he was at- 
tempting to make pancakes take their place, and 
was having a hot time trying to keep up with 
the calls for “Pancakes! pancakes! more pan- 
cakes !” 

“I ’ll take our flour up there and thankfully 
accept her offer,” he said, cutting thick slices from 
the loaf. “No more trying'to fill you fellows up 
on slapjacks for me.” 

Henry J. was as certain as Friday and Sat- 
urday about the bandits, and gave information 
that made the theory plausible, at Idast. It 
seemed that Mr. Perkins had difficulty in getting 
hired men enough in the sparsely inhabited dis- 
trict, .and had, some months before, gone to a 
somewhat distant city and brought back three 
men to work for him. The married one lived in 
a cabin in the river bottom on the other edge 
of Mr. Perkins’s large farm; the other two 
boarded with him, and the whole lot — three men, 
the woman, and two small children^ — were dark, 
foreign-looking people. They were Dagoes, 
Henry J. said ; he ’d seen them in the town where 
124 


THE EVAPORATED PANTS 


he used to live ; he said the men could n't talk 
so he could understand them. 

^‘They 're part o' the gang, I betche ! It 's 
just make believe that they're working for old 
Perkins ; they 're bandits, an' that sign proves 
it!" 

Ma Wilson was not by to rebuke Henry J. 
for his disrespect. 

‘‘Well, say they are bandits, boys," Tuesday 
agreed, gravely. “What 're they banditting for, 
and what 've they got in that hiding place in 
the bluffs Friday's so sure of? Looks like a 
mighty poor country for swiping anything; but 
if they have a store hidden, let 's attack them 
and take it as trophy of war." 

“Aw, you c'n make fun if you want to; that 
don't change it any," Friday asserted, and went 
off with Saturday to exhibit to Henry J. the 
evidences of the visit of the bandits, with thrills 
of delightful fear and importance at being the 
objects of such threatening danger. 

“It 's common enough, farmers getting help 
from towns," Alonday said; “but there may be 
something in that paper after all, if those men 
are foreigners. They will, of course, side with 
Mr. Perkins, the man who pays them; and that 
class is usually ignorant, as well as revengeful 

125 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


and treacherous. I hn beginning to think, with 
the kids, that we ’d better get out of here.'’ 

‘‘Scared out by Dagoes, hey?" Thursday 
laughed. “No, I 'll keep the gun ready, and if 
they sneak about the camp much, they may find 
themselves up against something they won't like. 
But I '11 not be hasty," he added quickly, “only 
Mr. P.'s hired men better not be too free in 
meddling with us." 

Henry J., having satisfied his curiosity re- 
garding the bandits, announced that he was go- 
ing up to Holcombs' to borrow the hoes, and 
asked that Friday and Saturday go along. 

“I 'm afraid you won't get around till noon 
if you 're all together," Wednesday objected. 

“And we must get the work done before 
there 's much treasure hunting," Monday warned 
them;- which sent them ofif in a hurry, with 
promises of speedy return. 

Before the boys started to their work, Mon- 
day once more proposed moving farther up the 
river, or to Mr. Wilson's, for the safety of their 
property if nothing else. 

“There's to be no interfering," Thursday 
said; “I think you forget that in a hurry." 

“But it changes things to know that Mr. 
Perkins has such men about. Most of them 
126 


THE EVAPORATED PANTS 


understand very little of our language, and most 
of them think very little of taking life/' 

‘‘Do n't worry," Thursday returned, “I 'll 
look after myself, and the camp, too." 

There was nothing to do but leave him alone, 
but if Monday could, he would have taken the 
gun with him. The situation seemed to him, 
and the other two as well, to have assumed a 
threatening if not dangerous attitude, and their 
faces were sober as they told Pa and Ma Wilson 
of the occurrence. 

“I guess it 's just meant for a prank," Ma 
Wilson said, cuddling Sunday in her lap; “I 
don't believe it was Mr. Perkins; he wouldn't 
be so foolish, if he is cranky." 

“O yes, it was just a prank," Mr. Wilson 
echoed, laughing heartily over the “evaporated 
pants" affair, “and I don't think you need fear 
any real trouble with those fellows; though, of 
course, if your young friend down there, who 
seems something of a hot-head, irritates and an- 
gers them, they 'll retaliate, and not be particular 
as to how they do it, so they get even." 

“That 's the very thing we 're afraid of," 
Monday replied; “Thursday doesn't mean to 
make trouble; he just wants to have his own 
way — it 's the best way as he sees it. He 's 
127 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


promised to be careful now> and he knows 
enough of that kind of men to make him think 
before setting them after him.” 

‘‘Most of us like our own way pretty well,” 
Mr. Wilson remarked, “and we set out to have 
it, too, at first, no matter whose corns we tramp 
on.” 

“Old Josh Billings’s rule, ‘to go slow, and 
give half the road,’ is a great trouble preventer,” 
Mrs. Wilson commented. 

“Mr. Perkins does n’t practice it much,” 
Wednesday laughed ; “he seems to want the whole 
road, and the grass at the sides. Yonder comes 
the hoes; we must just slay the weeds to-day.” 

The smaller boys had made very good time 
on their errand, and they were bubbling over 
with a scheme that was partly the reason for 
their hurry — they were eager to get to working 
it out. 

“Say,” began Friday, spokesman as usual, 
“when we get the work done and the treasure 
found, we ’re going up there to the sand bank on 
Mr. Holcomb’s side of the river, by the bridge, 
and make dugouts an’ wigwams an’ everything. 
He said we could, an’ we will, whether Thursday 
does or not, for Mr. Holcomb said if Mr. Per- 
kins was down on us, we ’d just as well get out 
128 


THE EVAPORATED PANTS 

o’ the bottom down there, ’cause we would n’t 
have any peace, or fun either.” 

“You ’ve been letting off your mouth too free, 
I ’m afraid, young man,” Tuesday admonished. 

“Well, he asked about the hoes an’ things,” 
Friday asserted, “an’ if Thursday wants to stay 
down there with his ol’ tent, he can for all we 
care ; we ’re going up there when we find the 
treasure.” 

“You ’ll not do any wigwaming and dug- 
outing this summer, if that wonderful treasure 
must be found first,” Mr. Wilson prophesied, 
smiling. 


129 


CHAPTER XII 

“THE BANDITS! THE BANDITS!” 

“Run, Nell, there’s the cows!’’ Mrs. Wilson 
called. 

Nell dashed away, her little dog Snip yelping 
beside her, and Sunday straggling behind. He 
stopped and peered through the rails, too much 
afraid of the cows to go into the orchard. 

“Watching the cows is Nell’s job,” Mrs. Wil- 
son said. 

The boys had noticed the little girl at times 
through the day, clipping along after the cows, 
shooing them back from the orchard, into the 
old meadow, across the fence between that was 
badly down in places. 

“Why can’t we attack that fence when the 
weeds are beaten?” Monday asked. 

“Just what I was going to say,” Wednesday 
put in. “I do n’t suppose we ’d be Abraham 
Lincolns at rail splitting, but we know how to 
cut poles;” the other boys grinned with him, 
remembering the fence-building in the bottom. 

130 


^‘THE BANDITS! THE BANDITS T 


‘‘O, it just wants fixing up; does n’t need new 
material/’ Mr. Wilson returned. ^‘Winnie and 
Henry J. can do that now, with the lift you ’re 
giving them. Maybe I ’ll be hobbling around to 
help in a few weeks.” 

‘Tt looks as if I might do such things,” said 
Ma Wilson, ‘‘but I can’t seem to do much stoop- 
ing and lifting; my two hundred pounds — nearly 
— gets in the way,” she laughed, regretfully. “I 
can take care of the milking and poultry, but 
I ’m not half the help I ought to be.” 

“You ’d think ma was n’t worth her salt,” 
Winnie laughed, giving her mother a hug. 
“She ’s got enough young chickens growing to 
pay for our groceries, and she — yes, I will tell it, 
too, ma ! — she sewed for some folks up the road, 
and bought all the feed for them ; and she makes 
butter, sells a few pounds a week, and runs the 
house, and takes care of all of us.” 

“We’d go under sure, without ma!” Mr. 
Wilson declared. 

“But please, Mr. Wilson, that fence fixing is 
our job,” the big boys insisted. 

“Have we got to fix up all the fence before 
we can hunt the treasure?” Henry J. demanded, 
indignantly. 

“No indeed, sonny; it’d take a regiment to 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


do that. But don’t you set your heart on find- 
ing any treasure, and you ’ll be saved a disap- 
pointment — anyhow, not the kind you imagine 
is lying around for you to find. There ’s other 
treasures besides gold and silver ; you know what 
kind I think Uncle Josh meant. And I ’m find- 
ing another kind in the help of these boys; the 
crops ’ll be in such shape that there ’ll be enough 
to take us and the stock through the winter, even 
if I do n’t get able to do much. I tell you, boys,” 
he looked at them gratefully, his kind eyes with 
tired lines around them growing dim, ‘T tell you, 
boys, you can never guess how deep- was the 
slough of despair you are pulling me out of.” 

^‘Not that you ’d know Pa Wilson was in 
despair, or anything like it, unless you heard his 
fiddle crying in the night Ma Wilson wiped her 
eyes. ‘‘But last night, though it hurt him so, 
he had to play, it sung, ‘Cheer up! Cheer up!’ 
plain, and I knew he was seeing light through 
the clouds.” 

“Is it worse, sir, do you think?” Tuesday 
asked, after a grave silence. 

“I hope not !” Ma Wilson exclaimed, hastily. 

Pa Wilson shook his head, smiling, “O no, 
not worse as a whole ; in spots, maybe,” he said, 
cheerfully. 


132 


THE BANDITS! THE BANDITS! 


“Could n’t you have something more 
planted?” Wednesday asked. “We can just as 
well do it, and there’s such a lot of land!” 

“Yes, I should think you might. Buckwheat, 
now; don’t they plant that late?” Monday put 
in eagerly. 

“We used to grow buckwheat flour in barrels 
at the grocery,” Mr. Wilson twinkled, “and 
that ’s all I know about it, except as cakes and 
syrup.” 

“Turnips!” exclaimed Tuesday, who had been 
thinking. “My grandpa always had a patch in 
his garden ; I ’ve heard him say to ‘plant turnips 
the twenty-fifth of July, wet or dry,’ arid there ’s 
plenty of time. Could n’t we get in ten acres 
or so?” 

“Ten acres of turnips!” hooted Henry J., who 
had been on a farm long enough to know better 
than that. Mr. Wilson explained, and every- 
body roared at Tuesday’s red face. 

“Anyway, we ’ll fix for a good patch,” he 
insisted, taking the merriment in good part. 

“And now, Mr. Manager,” said Monday, 
“please order that the big boys shall do the 
plowing. I can handle the team pretty well, 
and one of the boys can run the plow.” 

“Yes, that ’s best, Winnie,” Mr. Wilson as- 

133 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

sented. “You managed to cultivate the com, 
but it was too much for you, remember.” 

“And it ’s so weedy now, you would n’t know 
it had been plowed,” Winnie complained. 

A man had plowed and put in several acres 
of corn, in exchange for the use of Mr. Wilson’s 
team. The garden and large potato patch Win- 
nie and Henry J. had contrived to plow and 
plant after a fashion. The boys were not en- 
tirely ignorant in the matter of handling horses, 
and soon got the “hang of the plow,” as Wednes- 
day said. Winnie was a little mite vexed that 
they were so quickly overcoming the difficulties. 

“I ’ve tussled and struggled with the plow 
and cultivators all the spring and summer so 
far, and you fellows can manage them lots better 
with only a couple of days at it,” she grumbled 
when quitting time came. 

“We’re a heap bigger, and a lot stouter,” 
Wednesday reminded her. 

“We’ll get to treasure hunting pretty quick 
at this rate,” Tuesday said, gloating over the 
big day’s work. 

Although it was late, the smaller boys had 
vanished in the direction of the ridge at the first 
sign from the bosses that they could stop. 

134 


“THE BANDITS! THE BANDITS!” 


“I do wish you ’d move up in the elms down 
there,” Winnie said, on the way to the house; 
“we did n’t realize how lonesome pa finds it 
sitting around that way, till you folks came. 
He’s used to always being where there were 
people about in the grocery. He was wishing 
last night you ’d move up — can’t you ? And he 
could hear you play and sing from there.” 

“Thursday thinks it would gratify Mr. Per- 
kins too much for us to leave down there,” Mon- 
day replied, evasively. He could not, of course, 
tell her the terms upon which Thursday had 
offered to give up the fight with Mr. Perkins. 

“Well, I don’t blame Thursday,” Winnie 
said ; “I do hate to give in, too. That ’s the 
reason I feel sort of grumpy at you boys beating 
me so, plowing,” she laughed. 

The boys found that Thursday had another 
kettle of squirrel stewing, but he had made no 
other preparations for supper. Of course, they 
could not expect him to have the meal ready 
for them every evening, and the three pitched in 
willingly, and hungrily, finishing supper. 

Ma Wilson had made them an apple pie, and 
sent some fresh doughnuts to Thursday. “Heap- 
ing coals of fire, I suppose she calls it,” he sneered, 

135 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


hatefully, and refused to touch the pie or dough- 
nuts. Nor would he use any of the milk and 
butter because they^had been got at the Wilsons. 
The boys had agreed not to quarrel with him, 
and passed over the sneer at kind, motherly Ma 
Wilson, when they longed to champion her. 
They guessed from Thursday’s manner that he 
had again failed in his efforts to examine the 
stone in Mr. Perkins’s field; failure in. any of 
his undertakings always upset his temper. 

“I think I ’ll omit squirrel from my bill-of- 
fare,” Monday decided ; “I ’ll wait till we find 
out whether or not it’s legal to pick ’em. I 
might as well shoot ’em myself as to help eat 
’em. I ’m not as ready to face the law as our 
Nimrod here, nor as able to pay fines, either.” 

“I ’ll attend to results,” Thursday asserted, 
clearing a little at this tribute. “I ’d put up a 
good many plunks for the fun of jolting that 
old knocker.” 

“See him to-day?” Wednesday inquired. 

“O yes; we had another little interview,” 
Thursday replied. “Somebody ought to look 
after him; he’ll burst something, some day.” 

From which the boys inferred that the inter- 
view was warm. The recollection seemed to 
please Thursday, and brightening up, he told 
136 


“THE BANDITS! THE BANDITS!” 


them that he had spent all the morning around 
the river corner, trying to slip inside and get 
at the stone. 

“The old man, with the boy and dog, was 
about there all the forenoon ; I could n’t quite 
kill all of ’em, which I suppose I ’d had to, to 
get in.” 

“I wish you would n’t speak like that, Thurs- 
day,” Monday remonstrated. 

“Well, I could n’t kill ’em, could I, legally ?” 
Thursday demanded smartly; “but I could and 
would kill the dog; they knew that fast enough, 
and kept him close. I tried at noon — they were 
there yet, and the freckled kid snickered at me! 
I do n’t blame Saturday for giving it to him ! Be- 
fore they left, the old man set two of the men 
grubbing inside his fence; they were there the 
last time I reconnoitered to-night.” 

“Well, I ’m glad you did n’t fuss with those 
fellows,” said Monday. 

“I ’m the only one that does any fussing, I 
suppose!” Thursday exploded, angrily. “They 
threatened to club me ! — I ’d have shown them, 
if they had.” 

“Threatened to club you !” the boys ex- 
claimed. 

“That ’s what ! I was walking along the 

137 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


fence, and stopped to look at them, with my 
hand on the rail, and they came at me boiling 
hot, with their clubs up — great clubs with knots 
on the striking end, cut on purpose — I know! 
They could Ve made mince-meat of me in a few 
seconds, and would if I had n’t had the gun. 
Do n’t look scared,” he laughed at their startled 
faces. ‘‘I did n’t threaten to shoot, but I stood 
my ground, with the gun ready to defend myself, 
and they backed off. I came away when I got 
good and ready, shot some more squirrels, and 
exchanged a few bouquets with that old auto- 
crat up there. He ’s put those men in that corner 
with deadly weapons; they’d be deadly all right 
if they were in striking distance; I won’t let 
that happen, though. But I ’ll see that stone, 
if I camp here all summer;” he set his jaws 
resolutely. 

The boys listened in silence, not at all liking 
the obstinacy that, it seemed, would involve them 
in a great deal of unpleasantness, if not real 
trouble. But remonstrance was worse than use- 
less. 

^‘Looks like the bubs was going to stay all 
night,” Tuesday said, breaking a long pause. It 
was quite dark and they were through supper, 
but the two smaller boys had not come. 

138 


“THE BANDITS! THE BANDITS!” 


“I expect Henry J. has coaxed them into 
staying. I overheard him telling them that — ” 

“They ’re a cornin’ !” little Sunday cried. 

“Sounds like they were falling all over them- 
selves, too,” laughed Wednesday. “Guess they 
find the woods some scary at night.” 

Friday and Saturday came rushing pell-mell 
through the trees and bushes, burst in to camp, 
and tumbled in the midst of the big boys, squeal- 
ing: “The bandits! the bandits!” 

“Aw, let up ! Do n’t try to scare your grand- 
father,” Wednesday jeered. 

“But we did see one!” Friday panted. “One 
of them Dago bandits — he was behind — the 
bushes — out there, crawling — to’rds — the camp!” 

“An’ I saw another one, further off that way,” 
Saturday flourished; “he was a-crawlin’, too — 
they ’re sur-surroundin’ us !” 

Sunday shrieked and flung himself into Mon- 
day’s arms. Thursday snatched the gun, lean- 
ing against the wagon, and ran; Tuesday and 
Wednesday dashed after him, shouting: “Do n’t 
shoot ! do n’t shoot !” 

“Catch him, boys ; do n’t let him shoot !” 
yelled Monday, struggling to rise, hampered with 
the clinging, shrieking, frantic child. 

Bang ! bang ! went the gun, and Monday, with 

139 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


the screaming little Sunday, toppled over, as Fri- 
day and Saturday with wild yells of terror cata- 
pulted themselves upon him. 

‘‘Here! What do you two lunatics think I 
could do with you plastered all over me?’’ Mon- 
day demanded, flinging them off. “Shut up 
now, and behave yourselves. You ’ve scared 
Sunday half to death.” He quieted the trembling 
little fellow at last, and was just starting after 
the other boys when they all returned together, 
having neither seen nor heard anything, and 
quite sure the smaller boys had just been scared 
at the blacker shadows underneath the thick 
bushes. 

“They ’ve got themselves all worked up over 
that fool bandit idea,” Wednesday grumbled. “I 
do n’t believe they saw anything but the dark.” 

“We did! whether you believe it or not — a 
man — one o’ them Dagoes ! An’ he was crawlin’, 
sneakin’ in to’rds camp,” Friday asserted so ear- 
nestly, it was plain he must have seen some one. 

“Whiskers?” Thursday asked; “black, bushy 
ones ?” 

“I did n’t see any at all. I saw one side his 
face; he heard us, an’ looked round an’ begun 
to run on his hands an’ feet, all fours, like he was 
afraid to stand up,” 

140 


^‘THE BANDITS! THE BANDITS r 


‘‘He went off toTds where the other one was/’ 
Saturday added. 

“I did n’t see only one, but I know I saw 
him/' Friday persisted. 

“O well, I do n’t suppose he meant any harm ; 
likely he was as badly scared as you were ; worse 
when he heard the gun popping,” said Tuesday. 

“Pull yourselves together and get your sup- 
pers,” Wednesday advised. “Serves you right 
for staying up there so late.” 

“Sure you did n’t hurt anybody out there, 
Thursday?” Monday asked. 

“Sure! I fired straight up, and I was careful 
not to fire into a tree either; the bandit might 
have ran up one to hide. I ’m not thirsting 
for blood; I only want them to understand that 
this diggins is going to be protected. You can 
bet they ’re making lively tracks with the heels 
towards us, about now.” 

“I want to go to ma-a’s,” Sunday wailed, 
“I do n’t want to stay in the woods where there ’s 
ban — dits.” 

“There are no bandits here, kiddie. It ’s just 
Mr. Perkins’s hired men; Friday and Saturday 
call them bandits, like you and Nell call your 
cob-pens houses, and your chips boats, when you 
play up there,” Monday told him. “And be- 
141 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


sides, we haven’t any gold or silver for them or 
anybody to steal ; they would n’t have our old 
truck, if we ’d give it to them. I expect that 
man is laughing right now at the way he scared 
the boys,” Monday ha-ha’d, and the boys helped 
him, to reassure little Sunday and allay his fears. 
But they were none of them quite easy under 
the knowledge that such men as those Mr. Per- 
kins had hired were prowling around the camp 
in the dark. 

Friday and Saturday got over their fright 
enough to put away a lot of victuals, and washed 
the waiting supper dishes as their part of the 
work. They sang the swoop and ki-yi over and 
over as an accompaniment; but they kept close, 
with stealthy glances at the dark woods around 
them; and hurried to bed immediately, pulling a 
“bunk” square into the middle of the tent, which 
they shared together, leaving their big brothers 
to the unsafe outer edge. 

They were not going to run the risk of being 
“clawed” out in the night. 


142 


CHAPTER XIII 

“SKIDOOED AGAIN” 

“I DO N^T understand their prowling around your 
camp, and I do n’t like it,” Mr. Wilson said, on 
hearing of the incident. “Perkins has no business 
letting them into the row; they ’re not like Amer- 
icans. But of course he has a right to set them 
guarding his premises, I suppose; and he claims 
so much more than what ’s inside his fence as 
his, that they may feel it all right to run you 
out of the bottom as trespassers, by bothering 
you in any way they can. But they ’ll have a 
grudge against Mr. Thursday for firing, and 
I ’d go careful and look over my shoulder often, 
if I were in his shoes.” 

“Why pa, you ’re as bad as the little boys, 
making them out bandits, or something of the 
kind,” Ma Wilson remonstrated. 

“They are bandits,” Henry J. muttered. 

“We ’d better, go over and see if we can’t 
make terms with Mr. Perkins, boys,” Monday 
suggested, uneasily ; “try to talk him into reason.” 

143 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“Why don’t you talk your other Week day 
into reason?” Pa Wilson asked, slyly; “you 
stand a better chance with him than with Mr. 
Perkins. I tried all that when we came here; 
the only thing he ’d consider at all was having 
everything as he wanted it, and that seemed to 
take too large a slice off Ma’s Legacy, so we ’ve 
been roughing along, having as little to do with 
him as possible.” 

“If it wasn’t for the Dagoes, I’d say for 
the rest of us to pull out, leave everything, and 
camp up here in the bam,” Wednesday said, 
“but we can’t desert Thursday with such odds 
against him, especially as there seems to be some 
real danger for him.” 

“Of course not!” Monday and Tuesday ex- 
claimed together. “We must stand by him, even 
if he does think he won’t need us,” Monday 
added, laughing. 

“I’m going to stay at ma’s!” Sunday an- 
nounced. He was on her lap, of course, and 
looking happier than he had before that morn- 
ing. 

“Bless his heart, he shall stay if he wants 
to ! And there ’s plenty room for all of you, 
with the big garret,” Ma Wilson said. “If 
only that boy could be j^ersuaded to let Mr. Per- 
144 


^^SKIDOOED AGAIN 


kins go with his claims ! Maybe I could get him 
to come up here/' 

‘‘You 'd stand a better chance with Mr. Per- 
kins/’ Monday laughed, imitating Mr. Wilson’s 
speech. 

“Mr. Perkins ’d run her out with her ‘per- 
suading’ quick enough,” Mr. Wilson commented. 
“They say he ’s never allowed a woman inside 
his house since his son went off and married one ; 
though what he expected his son ’d marry if 
not a woman, is n’t clear. The son took to 
railroading and was killed in an accident; he 
went and got little Alexander, about a year old 
then, and he’s raising him alone as he mostly 
raised his son, for the old man’s wife died long 
ago. This ’s what folks tell me about Mr. Per- 
kins. No, ma, you’d better keep away; women 
not allowed, is his rule.” 

“More shame to him,” Ma Wilson cried ; 
“Alexander does n’t know the meaning of home.” 

“Well, that kind of folks wUl do as they 
please, and get to be pretty disagreeable; and 
it ’s hard to do anything with them ; they get 
worse, unless they run up against something that 
shows them what a poor way it is to live. Mr. 
Perkins did n’t happen to do that ; he ’s marched 
along, butting people and things out of his path, 

H5 


10 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


not giving an inch, and look at him — a hard, 
gnarly, sour, old apple that nobody wants a bite 
of Mr. Wilson laughed with the* boys, then 
added, ^Tt ’d be the best thing could happen to 
that young fellow down there if something ’d 
turn up to head him off.’’ 

^T wish he could see how fast he’s spoiling 
a real fine fellow by humoring his temper so,” 
Monday said, earnestly. 

‘‘Old Thursday is a fine fellow,” Tuesday as- 
serted. “He just wants to run things his way, 
and everybody hurrah him. If he took a notion 
that you needed that ten acres of turnips, Mr. 
Wilson, you ’d have them, that’s all.” 

“My sakes ! you ’d all have to stay here and 
help us eat them!” Ma Wilson exclaimed; then 
with sudden change said : “We ’re going to have 
new peas to-day, off the early Tom Thumbs. 
There ’s plenty for us all, and Sunday and Nell 
shall pick them.” 

She had persisted, against all objection, in 
cooking dinner for all the workers, but she ac- 
cepted the supplies the boys brought, and which 
they were careful should be enough to satisfy 
their appetites. 

The work grew easier, of course, as the boys 
learned more about doing it, and the undertak- 
146 


^^SKIDOOED AGAIN!" 


ing, which had loomed so large in the beginning, 
dwindled rapidly. With a pretty well managed 
plow, three hoes, and three weed pullers, all 
working as if for a wager, they pushed the con- 
quest fast. Pa Wilson, at his loop-hole in the 
vines, shouted that he could ‘‘see things just 
jumping out of the weeds.’’ 

He was in great spirits over the encouraging 
sight, huzzaing and applauding; and when at 
times they broke out in their chant of victory over 
the weeds, his fiddle exulted like an army with 
banners, and he lifted up his voice in a “ki-yi” 
that toppled Winnie over in a spasm of laughter, 
and at which every boy tossed his hat and cheered. 
Whereupon Pa Wilson did it over again, and 
Ma Wilson came to the back door and waved 
her dish-cloth as an expression of her good-will, 
although she was not at all clear as to what it 
meant. 

“It ’s a regular Fourth of July, ma, all but 
the firecrackers,” pa cackled. 

“O, you ’re it, and we can get along with- 
out them,” she replied, with a genial ambiguous- 
ness that caused Pa Wilson to very nearly follow 
Winnie in the toppling over. 

“Pa will miss you all so when you 're gone,” 
Winnie lamented, as they were going to dinner. 

147 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘‘He’s just hungry for company; he’s on the 
watch for you at daylight, and he does so enjoy 
talking things over with you. He hasn’t been 
off the place since in the fall, and there ’s weeks 
in deep snow time that you do n’t see a person 
but your own folks, in a place like this.” 

“He ’s so lively and social, I do n’t see how 
he has stood it,” Monday returned. 

“O, we had it gay sometimes,” Henry J. 
grinned. 

“Yes, we did,” Winnie admitted, smiling. 
“To look at ma, you would n’t imagine her a 
success at acting Shakespeare, would you? — but 
you just ought to see her do the mad scenes, 
with her hair hanging down, robed in any old 
thing big enough to drape; or as Juliet (I have 
to be Romeo; Henry J. won't learn it all, and 
he will giggle when he makes love ! ) ; ma al- 
ways has to explain to the audience, which is 
mostly Nell, and pa when he is n’t managing, 
that this was after Juliet had got older and had 
eaten more than was good for her figure. Ma 
knows so many of the plays, and she reels them 
off splendid, if she does get them mixed.” 

“She’s Ity I tell ye, when she raves and tears 
the flowers out o’ her hair, an’ flings ’em about 
148 


^SKIDOOED AGAIN 


desperate! Whe-ew! kind o' jars me sometimes, 
an’ I know it ’s just ma,” Henry J. said. 

‘‘They used to see all the plays when they 
were first married ; pa subbed in a theater or- 
chestra,” Winnie took it up. “He drills us, and 
he ’s particular, too.” 

“There ’s the dandiest lot o' funny old duds 
up garret — Uncle Josh’s folks’ old stuff ; we use 
’em, but they ain’t none of ’em big enough for ma ; 
she just wraps up in a old counterpane, an’ such,” 
Henry J. hurried out, delighted at finding himself 
the center of attention of the boys gathered 
around themi. 

“O, ghost of Banquo !” Tuesday exclaimed, 
“who ’d have dreamed of butting into a theatrical 
company up here? Thursday doesn’t know what 
he ’s missing ; he ’s the greatest ever on getting 
up plays.” 

“Say, why can’t w'e — ” 

“Why, of course we can,” Monday inter- 
rupted Wednesday, “that is, if they’ll let us — 
won’t they. Miss Winnie, be in the plays, you 
know ?” 

“Why, of course, and we ’ll have fun out- 
doors. But ma would n’t for anything before 
you boys; it’s just because it helps amuse pa, 
149 


THE SWOOP OP THE WEEK 


that she does with us. But I just guess we can 
play anything we please — it ’ll tickle pa so ! — 
some of you ’ll have to be ladies ; we never have 
enough.” 

‘‘O, Tuesday makes the sweetest girl — so 
graceful,” Wednesday minced about. 

‘‘So does Fair-o’-face,” grinned Tuesday. 
“With his big blue moons,” Saturday threw in. 
“Say, there ’ll be parts for all of us, won’t they?” 
he asked, anxiously. To be audience had hitherto 
been his fate, with the stirrings of genius smoth- 
ered within him. 

“You bet!” Henry J. asserted, knowingly; 
“soldiers an’ knights, an’ such, with uniforms 
an’ swords an’ everything. But say, we ain’t 
a-goin’ to switch off on to no old play actin’ an’ 
let the treasure huntin’ go, — ^be we?” 

“I won’t!” Friday declared. Play-acting 
did n’t appeal to him, though he pricked up his 
ears at the soldiers and knights — they might be 
fun. 

“O, we ’ll rush the work through, then hunt 
treasure days, and play evenings,” Monday 
planned. “The ground ’ll be ready for the kafhr 
corn the first of the week — sow it and harrow it 
in, your pa said, didn’t he?” Winnie nodded. 

150 


SKIDOOED AGAIN!” 


“Sow it with needle an’ thread?” little Sun- 
day, who had run to meet them, asked wonder- 
ingly. 

“It is to laugh!” yelled Friday, roaring out, 
with Henry J. and Saturday. 

“Never mind those monkeys, kiddie; we’ll 
sow it like this:” Tuesday marched off, swing- 
ing his arms from side to side, chanting: 

“This is the way we sow our wheat, 

Sow our wheat, sow our wheat. 

This is the way we sow our wheat 
Right early in the morning.” 

They all lined up behind him, one by one, in 
a long, laughing string, all sowing and singing 
their way to the pump. 

“Rehearsing, are you?” Pa Wilson called, 
delightedly. 

“We ’re going to, sir, as soon as we get to 
it,” Tuesday replied. “We’ve just learned you 
are a stage manager.” 

“And we ’re going to give you times, putting 
us through,” Monday warned. 

“Do n’t be too sure ; the putting through may 
be on the other foot.” 

“You mean the boot ’ll be, do n’t you, pa ?” 
Ma Wilson corrected, blandly smiling. 

151 


THE SWOOP OF THE W'EEK 


By the time dinner was over they had a stage 
planned out up in the hay barn, and a stretcher 
contrived that would carry Pa Wilson to and 
fro without hurting him, and was in the midst 
of a heated discussion as to which of the plays 
to tackle first when Henry J. recalled them to 
the duties of the hour by exclaiming: 

“I think we three might have a holiday this 
afternoon, we’ve got such a lot done; and any- 
way, Saturday ought to be half-holiday.” 

“Wild to hunt treasure?” Pa Wilson asked. 

“Henry J. says there ’s lots of rock heaps on 
the ridge that he ain’t looked through yet ; maybe 
it ’s there, and we want to see — can’t we? 

“Yes ; pitch in till four o’clock, then you can 
scoot,” Monday replied. The smaller boys were 
appeased by this half of a half-holiday, and 
‘pitched in’ with a good will, and rushed away 
at the instant. 

The three big boys, eager to get through, 
and seeing the beginning of the end, worked late, 
and it was quite dark when they started away. 
Little Sunday could not make up his mind, after 
all, to stay away from Monday all night, and 
went, too, when he could not coax his brother 
to stay with him. Friday and Saturday were 
on hand to go with the big boys ; they could not 

152 


^^SKIDOOED AGAIN 


have been hired to brave the woods of the bottom 
again so late, when bandits might be lurking 
in every thicket. 

They found only a big, lonesome blank where 
they had left the camp in the morning. 

‘‘Skidoo-ed again sang out Friday. 

^‘He ’s folded his tent in the wagon, and 
hustled out Perkins's wa-ay," quavered Tuesday. 

‘‘Means more hurry-up orders to get out from 
the old man, I suppose," Wednesday said. 

“Thursday seems to get a lot of fun dragging 
that old tent about," Monday grumbled. “If he 
pushes over that way much further, we 'll hit 
the fence — " 

“And the bandits' clubs 'll hit us !" Saturday 
cried, not at all liking to be nearer the bandits' 
quarters. 

“I 'm going to strike against going any 
farther that way than the brook," Monday de- 
clared decidedly, “even if it causes a tear-up and 
we have to leave him to himself; we can't risk 
it. Or I can't, I should say. I 'm afraid the 
folks at home will say I should have pulled out, 
as an example, before this. Remember the law 
your father laid down to us big boys, and me 
in particular, as a ‘person of influence?'" he 
laughed a little ruefully. 

T53 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘T know, so does Tuesday; but neither of 
us think it ought to be up to you any more than 
the rest of us,’’ Wednesday returned, ‘‘only, I 
suppose they thought you the most level-headed 
Anyway, you ’ve done all you could, except to 
leave Thursday, and if it comes to that, we ’ll 
all go together.” 


154 


CHAPTER XIV 

A MIDNIGHT MARAUDER 


Thursday had located near the brook, and had 
mbved so late that he had not got things in order 
yet; he was hustling at it in a fine humor, and 
said it was a good move, for he had found a 
spring close by. 

was getting quite a tramp back to the 
other spring, and I did n't like to leave the camp 
alone long. When I go the other way, I 'm be- 
tween it and those sneakers." 

‘‘O, I guess they won’t bother us in day- 
light," Monday said. 

‘‘Do, hey? Well, you’re mistaken, for one 
of them was trailing me to-day, slipping along 
in my wake like an Indian. How’s that?" 

Monday was startled. “Look here, Thurs- 
day; Mr. Wilson thinks something serious may 
happen if you monkey with those foreigners, and 
that looks like it. I hope you did n’t have any- 
thing to do with the fellow." He repeated what 
Mr. Wilson had said about the need of extra 
caution. Thursday flared up: 

155 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“When I want his advice, I ’ll ask for it. I 
do n’t know what the Dago’s idea was in trailing 
me, but I know he got a dose for it,” he laughed 
uproariously. “You see, I let him trail till I 
had him where there were not many trees big 
enough to hide him, then I turned suddenly and 
caught him as he was slinking behind the only 
big tree near. It was my turn, and I surrounded 
the tree, popping into the trunk, high enough to 
be sure of not hitting him, of course; but he 
did n’t know that, and the way he slid around 
and around that tree, keeping out of range, was 
enough to make a dog laugh. I nearly split my 
throat — and I kept him dancing till I was tired 
of it. I ’ll bet he melted down like grease in the 
sun as soon as I was out of sight;” he roared 
again at the memory, and seemed a trifle of- 
fended at the sober silence which greeted the 
recital of this, to him, ridiculous exploit. The 
smaller boys were plainly scared at his fooling 
so with a “bandit.” 

“You had another racket with Mr. Perkins, 
of course,” Wednesday said at length. 

“I did n’t, ‘of course,’ else we ’d had squirrel 
again,” Thursday retorted sharply. “You fellows 
did n’t seem to exactly appreciate them, and I 

156 


A MIDNIGHT MARAUDER 


do n’t care, only to touch off the old fellow. If 
he ’d showed up with his language going, I ’d 
picked some squirrels.” 

“We thought you’d had fresh orders to va- 
cate, from your stampede,” Tuesday indicated 
the disorderly camp. 

“O, I had the orders, all right; come through 
freckle-face, though. And say, you ’d thought 
me a whole gang of bandits, he was so scared. 
He shook and mumbled so, it was n't easy to 
get at what he meant; I told him to speak out, 
that I was n’t fighting kids. He braced up, but 
he did n’t deliver orders! — he just asked, meekly, 
would n’t we move up to the Wilson place. 
I told him to tell Mr. P. that I was n’t backing 
out yet — that I would move instanter, but it 
would be over this way. Then he broke out 
like this : ‘O, do n’t do that, mister ; do n’t do 

that or you ’ll be sorry — go right away from here, 
or you ’ll be sorry.’ I told him I guessed I 
would n’t be the sorry one ; and I began to take 
the tent down right before him. He stumbled 
away with his fist in his eyes, and I came on 
over here. Funny the old man ’d send, instead 
of coming ; maybe he is afraid he ’ll burst some- 
thing, he gets so hot expressing himself.” 

157 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


'‘And maybe it ’s a warning from the boy 
himself; there may be something serious stew- 
ing for us, and he’s got wind of it,” Tuesday 
suggested. Monday nodded assent to this. 

"Think he’d care what happened to us?” 
Thursday scoffed. 

" ’Course he would n’t care ; he ’d help do it,” 
Saturday spoke up, voicing his own feelings. 

"If you knew we were going to do them 
rough some way, him and his old grandpa, 
wouldn’t you care enough to warn them?” 
Wednesday asked his brother. 

"I ’d be afraid to, and I would n’t care, 
either,” Saturday asserted. 

"I knew that, of course,” Wednesday said; 
"I was just bringing out the point that it 
would n’t be natural for a boy, after all the 
racketing, to try to protect us from anything 
that was coming to us ; he ’d throw up his hat for 
his side. No, Thursday must be right, and the 
old man drove the kid to it. And he was afraid, 
too, Saturday, you notice; he didn’t dare give 
the order, he asked nice instead. But he did it, 
though he was nearly scared into fits% Hurrah 
for freckles!” 

"Aw, he was just ’fraider of his gran’pa, 
that ’s all,” Saturday derided, but added : "He ’s 

158 


A MIDNIGHT MARAUDER 


a good fighter, though, if he is scared of the old 
man. Guess I ’d be, too.” 

Tuesday still stuck to his opinion, and after a 
few moments’ thought, he asked : 

^^The old man has n’t been the least bit back- 
ward about expressing himself before, has he, 
Thursday ?” 

‘^Well I should smile to say!” Thursday ex- 
claimed. 

‘‘And unless he’s disabled, which he isn’t, 
for I saw him over on his hill up there to-day, 
he ’d not hand over the giving of orders to any 
one — gets too much fun out of it himself, if he 
does boil. Why, then, does Alexander butt in 
in this way?” he turned to Monday, who shook 
his head, saying: 

“I have n’t even a guess coming, but I do' n’t 
feel easy over it, or the rest of to-day’s doings; 
and I tell you right now, Thursday, this is the 
last move for me over this way. And I think 
it would be wiser to back-track it at once.” 

“Same here,” echoed Tuesday. 

“And here,” added Wednesday. “Think a 
lot of my head-piece, and I ’d rather not have 
a knife in my back, thank you ! So it ’s me for 
the other way, next skidoo, and the sooner the 
better.” 


159 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“O, you fellows must ’ve got the bandit fever 
from the kids, or from your Paganini up there,” 
Thursday flouted. 

“Those men may have been bandits at home. 
There ’s the Mafia, you know, as well as some 
others,” Tuesday reminded him. “Of course, 
we ’re not really expecting a clubbing or knifing 
for the rest of us ; but I ’m afraid they ’ve got 
it in for you, Thursday, and I do n’t mind saying 
with friend ‘Paganini,’ that if I were you I ’d 
go careful, and look behind often, especially after 
your shooting match to-day.” 

“I ’ll take care of myself,” Thursday declared. 
“I ’m handy with the gun, you know, and I ’ll 
keep the sneakers facing it, too.” 

They had been hustling about as they talked, 
part getting supper, and part setting the tent to 
rights for the night. It was so late when they 
were through supper they were tempted to leave 
the dishes unwashed, but finally decided to keep 
to the rule of cleaning them up after every meal. 

“For we’ve only just dishes enough,” Mon- 
day said, “and if we begin leaving them, we ’ll 
soon not have a thing to cook with or eat on.” 

The gun had been kept in the wagon, but 
Thursday now arranged to hang it in the tent, 
i6o 


A MIDNIGHT MARAUDER 

though the other boys thought that a little dan- 
gerous. 

'Tf there was a scare, you might snatch it 
in such a hurry you 'd bang it of¥ in the crowd 
of us,’’ Wednesday objected, at which Thursday 
laughed. 

He was the only one that had a gun along; 
Monday knew more of books than guns ; Tuesday 
had no liking for hunting, except with camera or 
butterfly net; Wednesday’s father had forbidden 
his taking one out with such a crowd of boys, 
fearing an accident; Thursday had asked leave 
of no one, nor did he tell any one that he had 
his gun till they were well on the way. The 
boys had not been much concerned about it — 
Thursday took his own responsibility in the mat- 
ter, and he was quite expert with the gun; it 
was safe enough if he were even ordinarily care- 
ful, as he would be if he kept his temper. But 
now they felt that the gun had become a menace 
and he might do serious harm in a reckless mood. 
But there was no restraining him ; all they could 
do was to look out as well as possible for the 
smaller boys. They insisted that he should hang 
it beside the tent door, as he would have it inside, 
and that he should sleep under it alone, that he 

i6i 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


might have room to get out without endangering 
the rest. 

“We ’ll give you the right of way as much 
as possible,” Monday told him ; “we do n’t want 
you bouncing around in our midst with that gun, 
and it dark as a pocket in here, too. Something 
might happen you did n’t intend.” 

They had not yet omitted their “night cap,” 
and although it was late and they were tired, 
they roared it out as usual. 

When the last “ki-yi” had soared into silence, 
they were surprised and a little indignant to 
hear from the hill up Perkins’s way a flood of 
mocking, ridiculing “swoops” and “ki-yi’s” re- 
peated again and again. 

“Freckles could n’t have been so scared as 
you thought, Thursday, or he would n’t be up to 
that,” Monday said. 

“Sounds too big for freckles alone — old man 
— or some one ’s helping him,” Tuesday de- 
clared. “Let ’s drown them out !” and he led off 
again, yelling his loudest. The others followed 
with little regard to time or tune, so they made 
a great noise; and at every lull came the derisive 
mimickry. After some time of the inharmonious 
duel, Wednesday suddenly quit in disgust, say- 
ing: 


A MIDNIGHT MARAUDER 


‘‘Aw, let ’em go, who cares ; I ’m going to 
bed.” 

“That ’s sensible,” Monday agreed. 

Taking the silence in the camp as a sign that 
they were beaten, the mockers broke out in con- 
temptuous, jeering laughter, which was the match 
to Thursday’s smoldering wrath. 

“I ’ll show them !” he cried, rushing into the 
tent. 

“I wish that gun was in the river!” Monday 
exclaimed, snatching Sunday, and tumbling Sat- 
urday (who happened to be in Thursday’s path) 
aside. 

Thursday ran up towards the sounds and fired, 
waited an instant and fired again, hooting dares 
for them to stand their ground. 

He came back laughing. “They had other 
business in a hurry; I could hear the brush 
crack I Did n’t feel so much like hooting and 
jeering. I fired straight up, of course. I ’m 
not going to hurt them unless they pitch on 
to me.” 

He proclaimed himself their sentry, and rolled 
up in his blanket beside the door, with the gun in 
easy reach. 

With prowling bandits in the woods about 
them, and a gun inside that might pop off any 
163 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


instant, Friday and Saturday began to feel the 
joys of camping out wither. 

‘T ’m goin’ to stay up at Ma’s Legacy an’ 
sleep in the hay in the barn loft,” Friday whis- 
pered, as they curled up together in the middle 
of the tent. 

‘T ’m goin’ to, too,” Saturday replied, shakily. 

‘T know Henry J. will if we do,” Friday 
added, and thus comforted, they fell asleep. 

The sentry must have rolled his ears in his 
blanket also; for instead of bouncing up and 
banging away, he slept peacefully, while a mid- 
night marauder crept stealthily about the camp 
outside. 

Monday, weighted with the responsibility put 
upon him by the older people at home, and filled 
with a vague uneasiness that caused him to 
almost regret the camping expedition, was 
wakeful ; and late in the night, through the 
restless tossings and mutterings of the smaller 
boys, he distinguished faint sounds as of some 
one moving slowly and very carefully outside. 
He wondered if those foreigners would dare do 
anything like slipping a bomb in the tent behind, 
or set fire to it, and he could hardly restrain the 
panic that seized him at the thought — he wanted 
to jump up, rouse the camp, and take the younger 
164 


A MIDNIGHT MARAUDER 


boys to a safer place. Yet — how they would all 
laugh, Thursday especially, if there proved to be 
nothing, after all ; he ’d better wait and see. He 
cautiously raised on his elbow', with his head 
against the tent to hear better. The wagon stood 
close behind, and he heard a little tink! as of 
metal oh metal — it might be the double-trees dis- 
turbed by some one climbing into the wagon-box. 
Listening intently, his whole attention absorbed, 
he had not noticed the slight movements within, 
and nearly cried out when a hand softly touched 
his shoulder. The hand groped for his head, 
pulled him over, and Wednesday breathed a warn- 
ing in his ear : ‘‘Hu-sh ! Lis-ten ; do you think 
it possible for us to get that gun without waking 
him? WeM hide it under the bunk, muzzle 
out.” 

‘T ’m afraid we canT,” Monday whispered 
back. ‘^He ’s sound, or he 'd been banging before 
this. I ’ve been hoping he would n’t wake, for 
I guess they ’re just fooling around. We ’ll 
keep still, and maybe they ’ll get away with whole 
vskins.” 

^‘They ’ve got nerve, though ! They must 
know the risk with that gun so free. Whatever 
they ’re up to, they must want to do it pretty 
bad — would they blow us up, do you think?” 

165 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

Wednesday’s husky whisper shook as he asked 
this. 

‘T ’d give something to know that,” Monday 
answered. ‘T can’t believe they ’d go that far.” 

‘‘Hu-u-sh, listen!” Wednesday cautioned 
again. They could hear faint rustles and slow, 
groping movements in the wagon, as of some one 
carefully feeling about, or placing some object. 
Once the padlock on the box where they kept 
their provision rattled, and some cans clinked 
against each other. After each sound there was 
an instant silence, the person waiting until sure 
that no one had been aroused. 

‘Tf Thursday wakes, we must jump on him 
and pin him down; won’t do to have bloodshed 
unless they attack us,” whispered Wednesday. 

“Yes, and we must be ready, too; he’s like 
lightning;” Monday slowly got outside the blan- 
kets. 

The harness, piled in the back of the wagon, 
rattled just then, making more noise than any 
before, but at the moment Friday tumbled about, 
muttering, w:ith a deep breath, drowning the 
sounds outside. 

“Good old Friday!” Wednesday breathed. 

For some time they heard nothing more; 
then there was a soft, slipping, ending in a dull 
i66 


A MIDNIGHT MARAUDER 


thud on the ground outside, close to Monday, 
startling him considerably. Whatever it was, 
there was only the tent cloth between it and him ! 
He was ready to leap away, but held himself 
steady; soon there was another slow rustling 
of the leaves, and then there was nothing more. 

They waited, listening, until it seemed im- 
possible to bear it longer, but there were no more 
sounds. 

‘‘Gone, I guess,’’ Monday whispered. 

“They could n’t have been setting one of 
those machines that blow up things, could they ? — 
or leaving a bomb?” Wednesday asked. 

“I ’ve thought of that — we ought to see — 
but the lantern’s locked up in the box — we can’t 
fool around in the dark. No, I can’t believe 
they ’d have any such things as long as they ’ve 
been out here in the country at Perkins’s — un- 
less there ’s a bandit gang, as the boys say,” 
Monday chuckled a bit hysterically, then pulled 
himself together. “I guess there ’s no harm done ; 
we ’ll wait till morning to do any investigating.” 


167 


CHAPTER XV 

ALEXANDER ‘‘BUTTS IN" AGAIN 


Monday and Wednesday crawled out at the first 
hint of sunrise, telling the boys, who grumbled 
sleepily at being disturbed so early on Sunday 
morning, that they would attend to getting break- 
fast, and call them when it was ready. Thus 
they had plenty of time for a thorough examina- 
tion of the wagon and premises — an examina- 
tion which they went about cautiously. 

It seemed hardly probable that any sort of 
deadly concern had been secreted where it would 
blow them to “nowhere,” as Monday said, but 
they went on with the search as if that were the 
case. They looked under, behind, and into every- 
thing, but found no signs of anything having 
been disturbed. 

They could not find any indications show- 
ing where the thing had alighted that made the 
soft thud which had startled Monday so; they 
had no idea what a bomb looked like, but they 
took no chances from carelessness, and turned 
over every twig and limb back of the tent. There 
i68 


ALEXANDER ‘‘BUTTS IN’’ AGAIN 


was no telling what those foreigners might do 
for revenge on Thursday, and they acted on the 
supposition that something had been done in the 
dark the night before, that would cause trouble, 
maybe injure some of the campers. 

It took considerable time, but they found 
nothing at all different from the usual things, 
and relieved, but more mystified than ever — for 
to all appearances the person had risked a shot 
from Thursday’s gun for no purpose as they 
could see — they hustled about breakfast. 

It was when they were finishing off the meal 
on the gingerbread Ma Wilson had baked for 
them, that a thought struck Monday which al- 
most paralyzed him — Poison! He sat with his 
mouth open ready for the morsel his hand for- 
got to put in it. For a fearful instant he saw 
them all in convulsions — dead! — then he found 
them laughing and shouting at him. 

“Full ! up to the doors ! Positively no more 
seats!” Tuesday exclaimed. 

“Gingerbread too much for your tummy? — 
look sick !” Thursday quizzed ; he, of course, 
would not touch the gingerbread. 

“I felt a spasm,” Monday returned, truly, 
“but it was n’t the gingerbread. All right now, 
I guess.” 


169 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


He devoutly hoped it v^as all right in every 
way, as he thought it over. The provisions were 
kept close, in the boxes, mostly ; the greater part 
of their supply was, of course, canned goods, 
and poison could not be put into it; the bacon 
and lard were safely locked in the big box, with 
the sugar; the flour was at Ma’s Legacy, but — 
there was the salt and can of ground coffee in 
an upper box; it was perfectly easy for them 
to have doctored both. He watched the boys 
slyly, with a shrinking fear, for symptoms of 
pain, but dared not relieve his anxiety by asking 
questions, except of little Sunday, who was so 
happy in the bright, fresh morning that he 
laughed at the idea of any one asking if he felt 
well. 

It was some time before Monday had an 
opportunity to startle Wednesday with his fears 
about the poison; it looked horribly possible, 
Wednesday said, but if an attempt had been 
made it had failed, for hours had passed and 
not a complaint of sickness among them. 

Friday and Saturday would have gone with 
Henry J. to Sunday school at the schoolhouse, 
only they were all going to have a good bath 
in the river at a sandy shallow before dinner. 
In the afternoon they were to go up to Ma’s 
170 


ALEXANDER ^‘BUTTS IN’’ AGAIN 


Legacy with their instruments and music, and 
they vainly coaxed Thursday to go along. He 
could find no better excuse for his surliness than 
that he wanted to watch the camp. 

‘We can load it into the wagon and tote it 
with us,” Tuesday proposed, “and bring it back 
this evening, of course,” he added, as Thursday 
scowled. 

Friday and Saturday looked at each other, 
while they laughed at this grotesque plan; they 
were not coming back, anyway — the hay loft for 
them, with Henry J. for company. Thursday 
was much offended because they had promised 
to go up to Wilson’s for the afternoon, and re- 
minded them that they come to camp out, not 
to stick around other people’s places all the time. 
He made believe not to listen to the boys’ lively 
discussion of things at Ma’s Legacy, hiding his 
interest in the jolly play-acting; and tried at 
length to scoff again at the treasure idea, saying 
“Paganini,” as he persisted in calling Mr. Wil- 
son, was the only sensible one among them on 
that subject. But he could not damp their en- 
thusiasm, for the boys had all taken a great 
liking to the family at Ma’s Legacy, and all 
now believed in the existence of a treasure of 
some kind; he believed in it himself, and would 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


have enjoyed hearing Mr. Wilson play, and the 
fun of treasure hunting, and the more fun of 
play-acting, of which he was particularly fond, 
only — only for that sulky, obstinate fellow within 
him — called Stephen Rayburn. 

There was no treasure hunting allowed on 
Sunday, and the smaller boys, with Sunday and 
Nell, played quiet games in the grassy yard, while 
the musicians went through the two lots of music. 
Pa Wilson was not quite ready to quit then, 
though it was coming towards night, but called 
all hands to sing familiar Sunday school songs, 
led by the queer orchestra of two mandolins, a 
guitar, and violin. 

Afterwards, while they were putting up in- 
struments and music, Friday and Saturday ran 
to the barns, with Henry J., to hunt up the eggs, 
followed by little Sunday and Nell, giving Mon- 
day and Wednesday the chance they wanted to 
tell of the stealthy night prowler, and ask the 
opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Wilson as to the poison 
theory. 

“Well say! did that sure happen?’’ Tuesday 
straightened in astonishment. 

“It sure happened!” Monday said, “and I 
thought my hair ’d fade out white crouched there, 
waiting for the ‘what next’ to come on !” 

172 


ALEXANDER ‘‘BUTTS IN’’ AGAIN 


“Afraid Thursday ’d bounce up any second 
and go bang! and fix some of us inside, to say 
nothing of the fellow or fellows outside. I tell 
you it was a scalp-lifter!” Wednesday declared. 

“And me ‘sweetly wrapped in the arms of 
Morpheus’ through it all, instead of getting my 
share of the thrills. I feel cheated,” Tuesday 
complained. 

“You ’d have been more than welcome to my 
part,” Monday told him, “especially the minute 
at the table when I first thought of the poison, 
and in fancy saw you all stretched out in a 
row.” 

“And sat like this,” Tuesday illustrated so 
ridiculously that they all laughed. “Did n’t for- 
get you ’d be in the row, too, did you ?” 

“That was my only comfort: I took more 
cofifee than the rest of you; then I thought of 
little Sunday being left down there alone, so far 
from anybody — he takes milk and water — it was 
tough! I came near running up here for help, 
and not sure we needed it, either.” 

“You’d been welcome,” Ma Wilson cried; 
“you all ought to come out of that bottom; not 
stay there another night, though I don’t think 
they ’d poison you.” 

“O no, they would n’t do that,” Mr. Wilson 

173 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


echoed. ‘‘They wanted something pretty bad, 
though, to run such risks. Could it be the 
gun?’’ 

“Why, of course! That must have been 
what !” the boys cried together, and Monday 
looked as if a load had fallen off him. 

“Queer I never thought of the gun instead 
of bombs and poison. It ’s as plain as day — ” 

“When somebody’s shown us,” Wednesday 
threw in. 

“Yes,” Monday admitted, “when we Ve been 
shown. That fellow was after the gun ; he ’d 
paid Thursday in his own coin, too, if he ’d got 
it;” he told them of Thursday’s fool trick of 
running the fellow around the tree. 

Mr. Wilson shook his head, but he laughed, 
too. “Just like a hot-headed boy! And I sup- 
pose, like a boy, too, he feels that it is his stunt 
to stick it out down there spite of everything.” 

“That ’s it,” Wednesday replied; “I know him 
pretty well, and I could see that he was half 
sick to come up here for the music; and he’d 
like the rest of it, treasure hunting and all, only 
he ’d think it was deserting his principles to 
give in.” 

“Poor boy,” Ma Wilson said, pityingly; “he 
is n’t altogether to blame — the way he was raised 

174 


ALEXANDER ‘‘BUTTS IN’^ AGAIN 


— and he is n't any too happy over it, either, I 
know." 

It was almost as if she had seen the proud, 
stubborn, lonely boy lying at that moment face 
down on the blankets, his gun beside him. So 
he spent the afternoon, but he was getting supper, 
whistling cheerily, when they got back to camp. 

Friday and Saturday had quite enthused 
Henry J. with their hay-loft plan in the bright 
sunshine, but they all discovered, when hunting 
eggs, that the big old shell was full of black, 
fearsome shadows, and the prospect of a dark 
night there, so far from the house or any big 
folks, with bandits in the near region, was so 
scary that they quickly changed their minds. 

The Wilsons were also puzzled over Alex- 
ander’s warning, but finally concluded it might 
be a trick of the old man’s to scare them a little. 
But Mr. Wilson was certain that Mr. Perkins 
had nothing to do with the mocking on the hill. 

The boys said nothing to Thursday about 
Mr. Wilson’s opinions to cause unpleasantness; 
he was more like his old self than for some days ; 
and they had a fine evening of new ripe apples, 
popcorn, story telling, and music. 

The gun was in the tent, and after the mid- 
night visitor of the night before, the big boys 

175 


THE SWOOP OP THE WEEK 


were rather glad to have it there ; if any one must 
go popping around, they preferred it should be 
Thursday. 

They had just ended their “night-cap'' when, 
with a swift rush, little Alexander darted from 
around the tent, into the firelight. He was 
breathless with running, and his small face was 
so white the freckles stood out in brown patches. 
He paid no attention to the others, but darted 
to Monday, painting out shrilly: 

“ Y ou — go — a-way — from — here ! O — go — 

away — quick! quick!" 

That was all! He was gone before they 
had got over the surprise of his coming; but 
that he was wild with terror was plain to all. 
Friday and Saturday slipped instantly and si- 
lently into their blankets, with covered heads — 
the gun and Thursday would be between them 
and the door, they whispered to each other. The 
big boys stared some seconds without speaking, 
then Thursday laughed a little, exclaiming: 

“Quite a dramatic entry and exit !" 

“I do n't think it 's a laughing matter," Mon- 
day said, sharply. “Something 's up ! The boy 
was scared daffy. I 'm not sure but we ought 
to go at once, to-night." 

Tuesday and Wednesday, knowing what had 
176 


ALEXANDER “BUTTS IN” AGAIN 


happened the night before, nodded. “We ’ve each 
got a brother along to answer for, remember,” 
Tuesday said. 

Thursday had been somewhat startled with 
the rest, but had quickly pulled himself together, 
and now jeered at the idea of four big boys 
(young men, he put it), being run off by a 
freckled little kid. He insisted that it was a 
put-up job, trying to scare them out with a 
mysterious, threatening danger. 

“Mr. P. has failed to drive us out by bluff 
and bluster ; now he ’s attempting the ‘hoodoo’ 
on us,” 

“But the boy was really terrified; his face 
was so ghastly his freckles stuck out plain as 
his nose, and he could hardly speak,” Monday 
argued. 

“Of course he was scared ; I did n’t mean 
that was n’t real. It ’s a long ways up to their 
house ; the woods are dark as a cavern, and alive 
with wolves and bears and lions at night to any 
boy. Alexander felt them at his back at every 
jump, and he knew he had to go through them 
again — the wonder is he did it at all. Look at 
the boys here the other night, just as wild and 
just as white over the bandits as Alexander was 
just now over the wild beasts that are lying 
177 


12 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


in wait to pounce on him. I know! — I Ve been 
a boy!” Thursday nodded wisely; he was fully 
convinced his view was right, and had pretty 
nearly convinced the boys. 

“I think it was the gun got on his nerves 
yesterday makes him so afraid of us,” Thursday 
added, laughing. “He looked sideways at it as 
if he expected it to pop him over any minute.” 

“Maybe you’re right,” Monday admitted, 
doubtfully, lifting little Sunday, who was asleep 
on his lap. “And, of course, none of us want 
to be run off by such tricks.” 

“You bet not!” Wednesday exclaimed, in- 
elegantly. 

“Well, if that’s it, we’ve nothing to worry 
about ; the bandits are just laying for Thursday ; 
he ’s the only one they ’ve got a grouch against, 
so far as we know, and he’s sure he’s enough 
for the crowd of them. So let ’s lay aside our 
cares and to bunk,” Tuesday disappeared with 
the last word into the tent, followed by the others. 


178 


CHAPTER XVI 

A “CLUE” AND A DISAPPEARANCE 


Drip! drip! drip! Spatter! Swish! The rain 
began in the night, dripping, spattering, swish- 
ing from the swaying, leafy branches with sud- 
den, sharp dashes upon the tent like the rattle of 
mimic firearms, accompanied at times by the 
heavy artillery of booming, rumbling thunder. 

Daylight crept into the valley slowly, a dull, 
dim daylight that gave promise of a dull, gray 
day. And these are the days that try the tem- 
pers and the spirits of those who abide in tents. 

The smoke from the discouraged camp-fire 
flared out on the ground as if flattened by a 
hand that slapped down upon it. 

“Somebody ’s put a lid on the flue,” Tuesday 
complained, rubbing his eyes, while he stooped 
to shake impatiently a sulky, slow-boiling kettle. 

There was a couple of grown-up slickers and 
one umbrella in the crowd that had come out 
for fair weather; with these, much patience, and 
considerable dodging back and forth, they man- 
aged to get something to eat. 

The tent was rather close quarters for so many 
179 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


healthy, restless boys to be imprisoned in, and 
it is small wonder that, tired of the confinement, 
Friday and Saturday presently became thorny 
and aggravating and nearly developed a fist-fight 
over some disagreement. 

‘T do n’t care ! This old weather ’s mean 
enough; he needn’t make things meaner!” Fri- 
day glowered from his corner, whither his brother 
had banished him, at Saturday, who glowered 
back from his corner of banishment. 

‘‘Shall we turn ’em loose and let ’em fight it 
out in the rain?” Wednesday asked Tuesday. 

“I ain’t a-goin’ to fight him, he ’s too little,” 
Friday snorted with a lofty air — he being all of 
a year and a half the oldest, and quite two inches 
taller. 

“I betche ye could n’t lick me if I be the 
littlest!” Saturday dared, who was always ready 
for a fight. 

“Aw children, sheathe your little claws,” 
Tuesday admonished mildly. “Take the snarls 
out of your countenances, and listen to these lines 
of advice to youthful belligerents — ” Friday 
clapped his hands over his ears and stuck out his 
tongue; Tuesday went on elocuting: 

“Let dogs delight to snarl and bite, 

For *t is their — “ 

i8o 


A “CLUE” AND A DISAPPEARANCE 


Monday, holding the open umbrella, suddenly 
backed into the tent and bumped against him, 
cutting short the quotation and sending the elo- 
cutionist staggering across the tent, at which 
both the combatants shouted, and peace was re- 
stored, for the time at least. 

Monday had brought from the wagon the 
box of magazines and games which they had for 
such an occasion, and they got through an. hour 
or so pleasantly ; then discontent again seized the 
smaller boys. 

“Aw, I’m sick of this old game!” Friday 
burst out suddenly, throwing down his Flinch 
cards ; “I do n’t see why we can’t go up to Ma’s 
Legacy and play in the garret with Henry J. 
and Nell.” 

“I ’ve been expecting it ; I suspicioned it was 
brewing,” Tuesday said. 

“Well, why can’t we?” Saturday eagerly de- 
manded. 

“You don’t want to live on them, I hope,” 
Wednesday said ; “and you ’ve no slickers, and 
there ’s only one umbrella.” 

“We do n’t care a bit for the old rain ! — ” 
“We can both walk under the umbrella !” the two 
said together. 

“And we could take that box of breakfast stuff 

i8i 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


that we don’t like, to them,” Friday proposed, 
magnanimously. 

‘‘Well, if that isn’t the limit of cheek!” Tues- 
day howled. “Take old stuff we won’t eat to 
Ma Wilson in exchange for your dinners.” 

“Hide me, boys ! He ’s my brother !” 
Wednesday begged, through shouts of laughter. 

Finding that proposition, which looked all 
right to them, met with no favor, Friday and 
Saturday offered to eat a cold dinner at once, 
although it was barely ten, and stay in the garret 
while the Wilson family had theirs. 

“Ma Wilson ’d drag you down by the scruff 
of your necks,” Wednesday declared at this. 

“We can fix them up a lunch,” Monday said. 
“I expect they ’d better go, for the safety of 
the tent.” 

He did them up a small can of salmon, bread 
and butter, and sweet crackers, and sent them 
away happy, with injunctions to open and use 
their own dinner, even if Mrs. Wilson did make 
them go to the table. 

“I don’t blame them for getting sick of it; 
I am, myself ! I ’m going to get fish for dinner,” 
Thursday said, having become almost as impa- 
tient at being shut up as the smaller boys. 

It was breaking away with fitful sunshine by 
182 


A ^‘CLUE’’ AND A DISAPPEARANCE 


noon. Monday got a fine fry on the fish for 
dinner, and they had just finished them, a little 
late, when the boys came racing through the wet 
woods, yelling vociferately. 

‘‘And now what?'’ Wednesday cried. 

The boys, with Henry J., swarmed up, all 
saying things at once. 

“Here, read this! — Winnie sent it ! — and come 
on! We're goin' right back!" Friday thrust 
a paper in Monday's hands, flung down a bundle 
he carried, and away they went. 

“House afire?" Tuesday queried, as Monday 
started up with an exclamation. 

“Listen !" he read, eagerly : “ ‘The boys have 
found a CLUE! — in the garret — come quick! — 
all of you — shawl for Sunday. — Winnie)."' " 

“A clue !" “To the treasure !" Tuesday and 
Wednesday leaped up, shouting together. 

“I guess it is ‘come quick,' if I know how !" 
Tuesday began rapid preparations. 

“Right now's the time the dishes can go 
wash themselves," Wednesday said, shaking out 
the shawl, while Monday thrust Sunday into his 
little coat, urging: 

“Come go, Thursday. Winnie says all, and 
means you, too. Come on, old fellow, and go." 

“Yes, do. You can carry the gun." 

183 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


^‘And we T pile up things inside and fasten 
the tent/’ Tuesday and Wednesday began fling- 
ing the dishes into the pan, and hustling kettles 
into the tent. 

‘‘Let things alone, I ’ll attend to them !” 
Thursday ordered, roughly “I ’ve nothing to do 
with the lot up there. Go on, yourselves, and let 
me alone; I do n’t interfere with you, and I won’t 
be interfered with — that ’s the bargain.” 

When he spoke like that, they knew it was no 
use wasting time coaxing. They were keen to 
know what the clue could be, and to be in at the 
“find,” which they expected at once. So they 
took Thursday at his word, only Monday said, 
as he wrapped Sunday in the shawl and rushed 
after the other two, “Leave the dishes ; we ’ll 
do them, and get supper to-night.” 

Taking turns at carrying Sunday, they ar- 
rived shortly after the smaller boys, and found 
Winnie wild with excitement, with Ma Wilson 
in a flutter, and Pa Wilson wearing a dubious 
wSmile. The smile cooled them somewhat, and 
they listened to particulars, wondering if after 
all it was a false scent. 

It seemed the boys were rummaging in the 
garret, and had found what they construed as 
a message concerning the treasure, or a real clue, 
184 


A “CLUE” AND A DISAPPEARANCE 


if they could only understand it. The message, 
if such it was intended to be, was in Uncle Josh’s 
handwriting, and had been placed between two 
leaves of a small, worn pamphlet, and the leaves 
carefully pinned together. The old pamphlet had 
lain in plain sight on the top shelf of a rickety 
corner cupboard 

“They knocked it off, and it opened at that 
place,” Winnie finished her hurried explanation. 

“It looked like it meant something, an’ we 
brought it to pa without unpinning it. We 
knew it was a clue!” Henry J. asserted with 
astonishing certainty. 

“Sit down, everybody, and let ’s talk it over,” 
Pa Wilson opened the book, showing the leaves 
that had been pinned together, and the note in- 
side, continuing: “I am not at all sure that 
it means anything. Take a look and see what you 
fellows make of it.” 

The three boys bent over the note in Mon- 
day’s hand, a bit of ragged, soiled paper, upon 
which had been written this imperfect quotation, 
or puzzle : 

. . deep, while sluggards sleep, 

And you shall have ... to sell and keep.” 

In the place of the first omitted word was 
a rough drawing of a hand with a spade in 

185 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


it, making a downward thrust; there was noth- 
ing in the place of the second omitted word 
but a soiled spot, that was in keeping with the 
soiled, greasy condition of the bit of paper; it 
seemed rather blind as a clue. The boys were 
somewhat disappointed — they had expected so 
much; still they declared that the paper must 
have been secreted in the book for some pur- 
pose. It must refer to the treasure! 

‘‘The drawing means to dig in the earth, of 
course, if it means anything,^' Mr. Wilson said. 
“The other blank doesn’t seem to mean any- 
thing.” 

“It must mean something!” Winnie cried. 
“O why, why didn't he say more! What shall 
we have to ‘sell and keep ?’ ” 

“Whatever we find, of course,” Henry J. 
snickered. “We boys think it means to dig in 
the cellar; it was right over it.” 

“Yes, it was! And the spade pointing to 
the cellar — almost. Let ’s go down and dig ! 
I’ve got to do something!” Winnie declared; 
the smaller boys hailed the plan with delight, 
ready to begin immediately. 

Mr. Wilson laughed at them, and looked in- 
quiringly at the big boys. 

“Of course it means something about the 

i86 


A “CLUE’^ AND A DISAPPEARANCE 


treasure/’ Tuesday said, earnestly. ‘T ’m sure 
it ’s a clue. We might ask a whole lot of ques- 
tions as to why he acted as he did about the 
treasure, but I think there was some one he was 
afraid would find it, and he gave you just hints 
and clues — maybe you ’ll find others. May we 
dig in the cellar?” He was nearly as eager as 
Winnie now. 

‘Tt must be a clue,” Wednesday asserted. ‘T 
don’t know as it means the cellar, but it may, 
and I want to dig there.” 

‘T, too,” Monday echoed. ‘^Tuesday must 
be right ; he meant for you folks to find it, but — 
Do you know of any one who — ” 

“There is n’t a soul I can think of that 
he ’d want to keep it from,” Mrs. Wilson inter- 
rupted. “I do n’t know of any other relatives 
of his.” 

“Well, I hope you are not all on a wild goose 
chase, and will catch nothing but honks. Go 
ahead, though, and have a try at it; the place 
is yours; only leave the roof, and a cushion for 
my pet;” Mr. Wilson moved the swathed limb 
uneasily. 

“It does n’t get worse, does it, sir?” Monday 
asked. “You are so cheerful, I am afraid we 
forget it most of the time.” 

187 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“That ’s right,” he answered, heartily. 
“A\'^ould n’t help me a bit to have you all groan- 
ing for me. And I ’m assured of your sympathy 
by your works,” he smiled. 

They all swarmed into the cellar, pretty well 
filling it, and crowded about, interfering with 
each other, making no progress. Monday finally 
announced that he ’d look for further clues in 
the garret, as it was his belief that Mr. Barton 
had left a series of them, growing “warmer” all 
the time till they led to the great discovery. 

Tuesday soon had the cellar force working 
systematically, taking up and piling the broken 
brick floor, while Wednesday exhausted himself 
digging furiously, beginning in the comer as 
directly beneath the cupboard in the garret as 
possible. They had decided to go no deeper 
than a couple of feet, unless they struck some- 
thing, and intended to turn over the entire cellar 
bottom. Of course, the big boys took turns in 
digging, for it was hot working down there; 
the smaller boys piled the brick, while Winnie 
clawed over the dirt thrown up, hoping to find 
another clue, if nothing more. 

Meanwhile, Monday searched methodically 
among the old, mutilated, discolored books and 
pamphlets stored at divers places in the garret 

i88 


A ‘‘CLUE’’ AND A DISAPPEARANCE 


in long undisturbed seclusion. At times Winnie 
left her clawing to rush up and inquire if he 
had found anything. 

At last wild shouts from the cellar announced 
a discovery, and Monday clattered down to peer 
over the shoulder of Ma Wilson, perched with 
Winnie on the short, steep stairs, out of the way 
of the now frenzied diggers, who were making 
the dirt fly, yelling, “Found! found!'’ 

Everybody took up the cry as the spades 
clanked on some hard substance. 

“The treasure box! The treasure box!" 
shrieked Winnie. “It shall be brought to you, 
pa! — nobody shall open it but you, pa dear!" 

“Nobody but you, pa dear !" echoed Ma Wil- 
son, catching the excitement. 

There was pandemonium in the cellar from 
the smaller boys, while Tuesday and Wednesday 
laboriously pried on the object, buried in the 
hard soil. It came with a jerk at last — the half 
of a large, old-fashioned butter crock! 

They all stood aghast a few seconds, then 
broke out in groans and expressions of disgust 
over their find. Presently Ma Wilson sank in 
the narrow doorway and laughed and laughed, 
shaking like a great bag of jelly; laughed till 
she was gasping and breathless, and the tears 
189 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


ran. Everybody was soon helping her, Pa Wilson 
roaring delightedly, and demanding the treasure 
box to be opened. 

They carried their trophy up in state and 
deposited it beside him, tumbling down about it 
in various stages of collapse from excitement and 
mirth. 

“Well, that loosened the tension and did us 
all good,'' Pa Wison declared, wiping up. 

“And we 'll find it yet," Winnie asserted, stub- 
bornly, with undaunted courage. 

They went at it again, figuring that the “find" 
was an encouraging sign, for it indicated that 
the bottom of the cellar had been disturbed for 
some purpose. Mrs. Wilson, though, said it was 
likely that the disturbance of the cellar bottom 
meant that they used to have, long ago, a small 
“butter hole," she called it, where the crock had 
teen found. 

But Winnie asserted her belief that the broken 
crock had been buried there purposely, as a blind, 
to throw any one off the track should they dig 
in the cellar. So, far from giving up, they fell 
to with fresh vigor. 

Monday returned to the musty old books. He 
had found what he recognized as treasures in a 
small way in a few of them, and longed for his 
190 


A ‘‘CLUE’’ AND A DISAPPEARANCE 


father to see them. He meant to tell the Wilsons 
of their probable value, although he was not 
certain that they would find buyers. He was 
so engrossed that he forget time until aroused 
by the vanishing of the sun, which had come 
out clear late in the day. Then he rushed down, 
to be made a captive of by laughing Ma Wilson, 
who had got supper, and threatened all sorts of 
things if they did not all stay. 

So they were very late in getting back to 
camp; Sunday was tired and sleepy, and had to 
be carried ; Friday and Saturday moped along, a 
little grumpy that the treasure had refused to be 
discovered after so alluring a prospect. 

But the big boys felt they were repaid in 
plenty for their efforts in the exciting activities 
of the afternoon, and pitied Thursday in his 
self-exile: they could have done nothing but 
mope around the tent, as they said, for the 
bottom had been sopping, after the all-night heavy 
rain and the soggy morning. 

“Poor old Thursday, cutting himself out of 
all the larks,” Tuesday said, “and there’ll be 
more of them, too ; and that treasure ’ll be found ! 
I ’m certain now that there is a treasure, and 
just as certain that paper is a clue, though I 
can’t see through it. I do n’t see how I 'm going 
191 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

to tear myself away when our time 's up, if the 
treasure is n't found yet." 

That raised an instant howl from Friday and 
Saturday. They had forgotten that they might 
have to leave before the treasure was found. 
They began at once to figure out ways and means 
that would enable them to stay, as Mr. Wilson 
could not afford to keep them ; and they resolved 
to find work with some farmer, doing anything, 
rather than go away. 

It was quite dark when they arrived, and to 
their astonishment and alarm found a silent, de- 
serted camp and a dead campfire. The big boys 
looked at each other with frightened eyes — 

Where was Thursday? 


192 


CHAPTER XVII 


WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO THURS- 
DAY 

“We) must hustle up the fire and get some hot 
supper ready for Thursday, time he comes,'’ 
Monday said, trying to act as usual and not 
start a bandit panic. 

“Sure. He's been doing it for us right 
along," Wednesday agreed, seconding Monday's 
efforts, both of them, as well as Tuesday, keep- 
ing up a braver show than they felt. Thursday 
had done up the dinner work and then gone 
hunting, it seemed, as the gun was not there. 
But he should have been in long ago, if nothing 
had happened to him; they tried to think that 
he had only gone farther than he had meant to. 

There were live embers under the bed of 
ashes, and they soon had a big, snapping, blazing 
fire, that brightened things up. The smaller boys 
kept wondering about Thursday, hinting at the 
bandits — hints the older boys tried to laugh at. 
Tuesday started to get water, and found the 
bucket missing. 


13 


193 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘‘Say/’ he called, “Thursday would n’t take it 
hunting, would he?” 

“Maybe he ’s gone fishing, and took it,” Fri- 
day suggested. 

Tuesday finally took a pan and went to the 
spring, but ran back immediately, bringing the 
water bucket; he was plainly frightened, and 
cried: “This was down there, as if it had been 
thrown to one side — and it looked as — as if 
there ’d been a scuffle or struggle — I couldn’t 
see plain. 

Monday snatched a brand and ran, forgetting 
even little Sunday, in the fear that clutched him ; 
Tuesday caught up the little fellow, and all rushed 
after Monday. The flickering light showed the 
marks of a furious struggle. There were many 
footprints, deeply sunk in the moist ground about 
the spring, and spots where feet had slipped and 
scraped down the bank, and they found a trail 
as of a heavy weight having been dragged away. 
It was horribly suggestive of the dragging of 
an inert, helpless body. 

“We never ought to have left him alone! I 
should have stayed with him, if he did call it in- 
terfering and unfair.” Monday quavered, his 
horrified tones plainly showing his fear that some- 
thing dreadful had happened. 


194 


WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO THURSDAY 

“Yes, we ought to have stayed with him, 
whatever he did!” Wednesday said, shouldering 
his share of responsibility. “Poor old boy!” 

“Did — did the bandits k-kill Thursday ?” Sat- 
urday howled. 

“Hush!” Tuesday ordered. “Don’t scare 
Sunday, mentioning such a thing. They 
would n’t dare, boys ! they would n’t dare do him 
real harm !” 

“We do n’t know what those fellows would 
do,” Monday said, shakily, hushing little Sunday 
in his arms, “but he may be around ; let ’s call 
him.” 

Pear clutched at their throats, choking the 
first effort into mere, spasmodic exclamations. 

“Everybody try now, louder! louder!” Mon- 
day commanded. They hallooed again and again, 
with greater volume each time, listening for some 
response, though hardly daring hope for it. 

“There ! was n’t that — Call again,” Monday 
said ; “I ’ll listen. There ! I heard a — ” 

“I heard something, too,” Friday shouted; 
“it ’s him ! it ’s him !” 

“Call again ; let ’s see if we can tell which way 
it is.” 

Before the shout had ended, Monday had 
plunged off towards the river, the rest plunging 

195 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


after him in a bunch. Presently Monday stopped, 
and they called again; they could all hear the 
answer now — a faint, curious cry, not at all like 
Thursday’s usual clear shout. 

‘‘It ’s this way, down the river,” Monday 
darted off diagonally, the bunch swerving with 
him, the sounds becoming plainer as they sped on. 

“Just so he is alive!” Wednesday panted. 

It was a blind rush in the dark, with many 
bumps and scratches, as they plunged on over 
and through, instead of around logs, bushes, and 
thickets, with Friday and Saturday endangering 
the limbs of all in frequent mix-ups with the 
big boys’ leaping legs, in their frantic endeavor 
to keep in the middle of the crowd. 

Stars flashing up from the surface of the 
gliding river, warned them to go more carefully, 
and soon they halted and called again. 

“He’s here, close by! That’s Thursday!” 
they cried, as they heard the muffled calls, ap- 
parently very near. 

Suddenly, as they searched about calling, they 
bumped into a huge ball, rocking and squirming 
from side to side, and from it came the voice 
of Thursday. Striking a match, the mystery 
was solved. It was Thursday, tied up in a big 
196 


WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO THURSDAY 


burlap coffee sack, gyrating helplessly, not far 
from the brink of the river. 

They cut the stout cord and found him trussed 
like a fowl ready for the oven, his hands securely 
tied to his ankles, holding him doubled over; 
his head bound down so his face rested upon his 
knees, effectually muffling his efforts at shouting. 
A rapid examination by the sputtering matches 
did not show any serious injury, as the boys had 
feared, although Thursday kept telling them that 
he wasn’t hurt. He could not straighten at 
once, when released from the cramped position, 
and Tuesday and Wednesday picked him up, and 
they hastened back to camp; he was chilled by 
lying so long on the damp ground, and the first 
thing was to warm him up. They dosed him 
with Jamaica ginger as hot as he could swallow 
it, rubbed his stiffened limbs, and rolled him in 
hot blankets, and finally fed him with a good, 
hot supper; by which time Thursday was pretty 
much himself again, and sat up, stretching his 
legs and arms. 

^‘Sure you ’re all right, old man ?” Monday 
asked — a question that was put to him every 
few minutes by some one. 

‘‘There ’s nothing at all the matter with me, 
197 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


now I ’m loose and warm and full Thursday 
patted his stomach, and stretched his legs. “Feels 
good to have plenty of room again.” 

The big boys were so eager to hear how it 
happened and all about it, that they had found 
it hard not to fire questions at him till he was 
in a condition to answer. Now they all sat 
around ready, and Monday said, “Of course, 
we ’re aching to know all about it.” 

“Of course,” Thursday grinned a little, then 
turned suddenly on the smaller boys: “Look 
here, kidsf I ’d lots rather you ’d laugh right out 
than hide your faces and snicker. Laugh ! laugh ! 
I know I looked like a great tumble bug,” he 
set the example by bursting out himself. That 
touched the button, and they all laughed, and 
laughed uproariously, yet with a little shame on 
the part of the big boys, who felt as if the laughter 
was hardly proper or kind. 

“I did n’t know as I ’d ever want to laugh 
again, one time there,” Monday said, calming 
down. 

“Nor I,” Wednesday echoed. Tuesday 
reached over and squeezed Thursday’s hand, thus 
expressing his feelings. 

“Of course, you want to hear all about it,” 
Thursday grinned at the expectant faces, “though 
198 


WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO THURSDAY 


you Ve held your tongues and worked like heroes 
to get the kinks out of me, you could hardly 
wait to find out how I got in the fix you found 
me; that’s the way I’d be. Well, after you 
left, I pottered about a while, did up the dinner 
things and straightened the tent. It was three, 
maybe after, when I went for water ; I was going 
to wash some handkerchiefs and socks. I 
had n’t heard a sound, and nobody ’d been about 
in the woods that I saw ; I had n’t a thought of 
being attacked. I was stooping to dip up the 
water when some one plumped on me from be- 
hind, and I went face down in the mjud — the print 
of my nose is there now, I expect; we had a 
lively tussle, I can tell you, for I did n’t give 
up easily; but there were two of them, and they 
got me at last trussed and tied, as you found me, 
then they dragged me — bump! bump! — for so 
long, I wondered where it would end. Then, 
after while, I heard the river! Say!” he bent 
his head and was silent a moment. “Well ! — I 
expected they were going to fling me in to drown, 
tied up in that bag, helpless! — It was an awful 
feeling ! It seemed so much worse to be drowned 
with no chance to make a fight for life. But 
after considerable talk in a jargon I could n’t 
understand — they seemed to be disagreeing, 

T99 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


though — they pulled me to the bank and let me 
down, dangled me over the water, laughing and 
jeering something that made me think they were 
trying to force me to squeal and beg. I was 
afraid I would, and I bit into my knee to keep 
from it ; I do n’t think they heard a sound from 
me, and I hope I ’d have gone under without 
showing them how scared I was. But after 
they ’d dangled me up and down several times, 
they pulled me back a little ways and left me. 
I knew I was n’t far from the bank, and kept 
from squirming as much as I could. I suppose 
if I ’d squirmed myself into the river, they might 
have considered that I drowned myself. So 
there I was, bagged ! — all in !” he laughed a little, 
but no one else did. They all felt sober enough 
now, and Monday said : 

‘^Of course it was — ” 

^‘My friend of the tree,” Thursday inter- 
rupted. “Yes, and one of the others. I can’t 
decide whether it was just a trick to pay me off — 
I could n’t much blame him ! — or whether they 
really intended something worse, and were in 
some way prevented carrying out their plan. 
I was desperately sure it was all up with me, at 
first; I said, ‘Here’s where you pass in your 


200 


WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO THURSDAY 


checks, boy!’ but I fought hard, and of course 
I soon realized that it was n’t immediate slaughter 
they menat, for they could have used a knife 
easy; then, when I heard the river I thought I 
knew why they had n’t. And I did n’t get over 
expecting the river till I heard you fellows — 
I looked for them back every minute, thinking 
they were making it as hard for me as they could, 
keeping me waiting and dreading, which I did, 
all right ! — but I never squealed once, and I ’d 
a gone under dumb, too — I hope 1 When I heard 
you fellows, and knew sure you boys were com- 
ing! — ” he choked and stopped again. ‘‘Well, 
it ’s a wonder I did n’t squirm myself into the 
river then, before you got to me,” he ended 
abruptly. 

They were all silent a few moments, then 
Monday, with a sudden thought, asked, “But 
where ’s your gun ^ Did n’t you have it with 
you ?” 

“No! Is it gone?” Thursday jumped up 
and ran into the tent; he could not believe it 
was really gone; but his thorough search of tent 
and wagon failed to find it. Then he proved 
himself entirely recovered by boiling over in his 
own impetuous, unreasonable manner, piling the 


201 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


blame for the whole affair upon Mr. Perkins’s 
shoulders, and vowing he ’d have his gun back, 
or satisfaction good and plenty. 

‘‘Get out a search warrant ; I ’ll go with you,” 
Monday proposed. “It ’s no use jawing with 
the old fellow, and you could n’t go into his 
house to hunt your gun. You ’d have a fight 
that way, and be downed sure. Get a warrant, 
if you think he ’s got your gun.’’ Tuesday and 
Wednesday tried to help Monday persuade him 
this was the reasonable way, but he would not 
listen; he wanted nobody’s help, he’d get his 
property himself! 

Although the boys had felt such keen regret 
at having left Thursday alone, it now seemed 
certain that the men only meant to bother him 
and get even for the tree trick, and they would 
not really harm him; they tried to get him to 
go with them to Ma’s Legacy, but he would not, 
threatening to make it particularly hot for any 
one who presumed to stay with him, as if he 
had n’t learned enough to look out for himself ; 
so they started early to get to work again, as the 
ground was in good working condition again. 

They left Thursday muttering and grumbling 
over the loss of his gun, and hunting about in 
the thickets to see if it had been hidden some- 


202 


WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO THURSDAY 


where around ; threatening vengeance, too, as 
usual, not at all daunted by being deprived of 
his weapon. 

^AVell,'’ commented Mr. Wilson, after hear- 
ing the story, ^^it looks as if the boys’ 'bandits’ 
are not so bad after all. They did n’t hurt him 
much, when they had it all their own way, and 
might have given him an unmerciful beating at 
least, so you won’t have that to worry over any 
more.’” 

"That ’s the way we look at it,” Monday said, 
"and we all feel a whole lot easier. Of course, if 
Thursday keeps it up, he may get handled pretty 
rough, but I ’ll never be afraid again of their 
doing for him entirely.” 

The boys had brought up the horse owned by 
Wednesday’s father to run the single cultivator, 
while Monday finished preparing the ground for 
the kaffir patch. They all regretted not getting 
the planting done before the rain, as it had turned 
off fine growing weather with a bright sun, that 
made the moist earth steam and brought up a 
swarm of little weeds, too, at which Henry J. 
complained, saying, "The old weeds ’d hinder the 
treasure hunting all summer, if they kept jump- 
ing up like that after every shower.” His father 
comforted him by telling him that the crops 


203 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


would soon overgrow the small weeds with the 
start they were getting. 

As they worked they speculated a good deal 
as to where to make a beginning in digging for 
the treasure; for they were to dig — that much 
was certain, and it looked a large proposition, 
digging hit or miss over the nearly two hundred 
acres of Ma’s Legacy, made up of ‘‘hills, plains, 
rocks, and refuse,’’ as Winnie put it. 

Anyway, they would be free to begin in a 
day or so more, and Winnie and Henry J. hoped 
to find another clue, with more particular direc- 
tions, and rummaged everywhere all their spare 
time, even taking to pieces some ancient horse- 
hair furniture in the garret. 

They all agreed, finally, that the rocky ridge 
would be a good place to make a beginning, partly 
because Mr. Perkins had so often loitered about 
there as if he were looking for something. 

By noon they could see that another day 
would finish the fields in fine shape, and were 
washing up for dinner, cracking jokes with Mr. 
Wilson, when little Alexander flung himself over 
the old orchard fence and stumbled towards them, 
shrieking something so horrible that to the boys 
it seemed as if the sun itself had been suddenly 
blotted from the sky: and as they stared into 
204 


WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO THURSDAY 


each others’ blanched faces, each saw the awful 
fear that it might be so in all the others’. 

^‘But he would n’t! We know he would n’t !” 
Monday cried to the others. ‘‘Don’t you say 
such a thing!” he turned savagely upon Alex- 
ander, whose freckled face was white and drawn 
and marked with a great horror, as he twisted 
his small hands, shrieking again and again: 

“He kil-killed my — my grand-pap — he did, 
he did — that other fel-ler kil-killed my gran’- 
pap — he — did — he did — ” Monday seized and 
shook him with unconscious force, and Tuesday 
commanded : 

“Be still ! Stop screaming, and tell us what ’s 
the matter!” 

Something dreadful must have happened, but 
it could not be this ! 

“He did — he did — he kil-led my — gran’pap — 
he did — with a club — he did — he did — ” 

The frantic child seemed not to know what 
he said, but repeated the words over and over, 
with a despairing wail; then suddenly he broke 
away and ran back towards home, keeping up 
his cry : “He did — he did — he kil-led my gran’- 
pap— ” 

“Don’t believe it till you see it!” Mr. Wil- 
son cried to the paralyzed boys. “There ’s a 
205 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

fight, maybe, and he ’s hurt — the boy ’s scared 
wild.” 

This seemed to suddenly galvanize the boys 
into action; Tuesday and Wednesday dashed after 
Alexander; Monday caught up little Sunday, then 
remembering, put him into Ma Wilson’s arms, 
coaxing tremulously, “Be good, little Danny, and 
stay with Ma Wilson till brother comes.” 

“I ’ll take care of him ; he ’ll be all right. 
I’ll keep the other two boys, too; go!” She 
gathered Sunday close, sobbing. 

Monday looked his thanks, and rushed after 
the others. 


206 


CHAPTER XVIII 

‘‘YOU DID NT, OLD FELLOW! SAY 
YOU DID NT!’’ 

At the foot of the hill the two boys remembered 
Monday, and waited for him; they had passed 
Alexander, who was still crying and gasping, 
‘‘He did!— he did!” 

When Monday overtook the child, he seized 
him, demanding: “Where did they have the 
row? — where ’s Thursday? — and your grandpa?” 

“Down to’rds th’ river — an’ he kil — ” 

The boys ran on, Monday taking the lead, 
saying brokenly: 

“That corner stone ! — but we ’ll make for the 
fence up here — Alexander ’s had time to come 
clear over there — they may be — taking — ” 

He did not finish, nor need to; the boys 
understood, and together they rushed straight 
across for the line fence, which they followed 
swiftly towards the house, and soon overtook a 
shocking procession — two men carrying the limp 
figure of the old man, and two following with 
Thursday a prisoner between them. 

207 


( 


THE SWOOP OP THE WEEK 


Mr. Perkins looked pitifully small and help- 
less, with hanging hands, his body huddled be- 
tween the two men, the head rolling limply to 
one side, and no sign of life in the wrinkled, 
pinched old face. The hair was dripping wet, 
showing that efforts had been made to revive 
him. There was no longer either doubt or hope ! 
The three boys shrunk close together, and fol- 
lowed in a trembling, horrified silence. 

Thursday did not notice them. His face was 
chalk white and set as if stiffened, and his eyes 
never left that limp, pathetic figure ahead of him. 
One of the men carrying Mr. Perkins looked over 
his shoulder to warn the others to ‘‘Hold on to 
the young ruffian and not let him get away, and 
cheat the hangman out of one good job.’' 

The men clutching Thursday were the two 
older of the foreign workmen, black whiskered 
and dull eyed ; they perhaps could not understand 
the words of warning, but they caught the mean- 
ing and assented with savage gestures and coarse 
exclamations ; the younger one, upon whom 
Thursday had played the tree trick, was helping 
carry Mr. Perkins, and he looked back at them, 
then at Thursday with a malicious grin, and 
Monday suddenly wondered if any one had wit- 
nessed the quarrel and result. 

208 


“YOU DIDN’T, OLD FELLOW!’ 


They carried Mr. Perkins in and laid him 
on the bed, and the other man, a neighbor named 
Lewis, straightened his limbs and bent over him 
an instant, as if listening. 

“Breathes a little yet,” he announced. It was 
the first intimation the boys had received that 
Mr. Perkins was still alive, and it acted like an 
electric shock upon them, arousing them from 
the hopeless despair that had held them. 

“O, then he is n’t dead !” Monday cried, 
eagerly ; “we must get a doctor, quick !” 

“He ’s as good as dead ; he ’ll never speak 
again, I know, for I saw a man killed by a mule 
kicking him on the head in about that spot; he 
breathed quite a spell, but never knew anything, 
nor even stirred. The doctor was sent for first 
thing, but it ’s no use, even if he gets here before 
the breath ’s all gone. Perkins ’ll never know 
anything again; he looks just as that man I saw 
killed did. That murdering young hound struck 
to kill, and he’s done it, too! You hold on to 
him ; we ’ll fix him !” 

He went out and presently returned with a 
rope; it looked as if they intended to lynch Thurs- 
day at once; the boys braced up and bunched to- 
gether, ready for battle, determined that all of 
them would have to be downed first. But the 


14 


209 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


men only jammed Thursday into a chair, and 
bound him to it from shoulders to feet. 

‘T would n’t run away,” Thursday faltered 
thickly, still gazing with that blank stare at Mr. 
Perkins. The boys were startled at the change 
in his voice. 

‘T guess you won’t run away,” Lewis sneered, 
and ordered the three men to watch the prisoner 
that the other fellows did not set him free. 

‘‘Did anybody see it?” Monday asked, putting 
the question they were longing and yet fearing 
to have answered. 

“I do n’t know as anybody did,” Lewis ad- 
mitted, grudgingly. “Me and my boy was haul- 
ing for Perkins to-day; we heard the racketing, 
but were too far of¥ to get the words. Alexander 
was with us, and he ran to see the row, and 
pretty soon he began to scream that his gran’pap 
was killed, like he ’s done ever since — so wild, 
we could n’t make out whether he saw it or not. 
When we got down there, the fellow was stand- 
ing over the poor old man, glaring at him as if 
he wanted to be sure he had killed him ; and he 
had the club yet — would have used it again, I ’ll 
warrant, if we had n’t got there too quick for 
him.” 

“Were these other men there?” 


210 


‘‘YOU DID NT, OLD FELLOW !” 


“They got there about the time we did. O, 
you need n’t try to shuffle it off on to them ! 
It ’s plain as the nose on your face, whether any 
one saw it or not — the man ’s killed by being 
struck a murderous blow on the head — he 
would n’t do it himself, I reckon ! — this fellow ’s 
been quarreling with him. — he was the only one 
on the spot, and he had the club yet, too. He 
said, first off, that he did n’t do it, but that dodge 
was nonsense, and we told him he need n’t try it 
on us. It ’s a clear case against him ! — he ’s the 
murderer! Look at that!” he brushed the gray 
hair aside and showed a long, bruised, purpling 
spot oil the side of the old man’s head. A few 
streaks of blood oozed slowly out. The boys 
looked in a shuddering silence, as they had listened 
to the statement of the accusation. It did ap- 
pear to be a clear case against Thursday; he 
would not intend to kill — they knew that, but he 
let himself go — no, they could not think he had 
struck that murderous blow ! — there must be some 
other explanation; they told each other this as 
they whispered among themselves; they would 
ask Thursday to tell them exactly what had 
happened, for whatever else he did, Thursday 
never lied. What he said, they would believe. 

The doctor, when he arrived, said at once 


2II 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


there was no hope; he might breathe for some 
hours; he advised doing nothing about arresting 
Thursday until the old man was dead, and they 
could make the charge of murder; but by all 
means to keep him safe, and see that the others 
did not help him off. He forced a few drops 
of something down Mr. Perkins’s throat, watched 
him a moment or two, shook his head, and went 
away, saying he ’d be back, though he did n’t 
expect to find the old man breathing. 

Lewis left to attend to his team, charging 
Mr. Perkins’s hired men to guard the prisoner; 
and the three squatted about and smoked, seem- 
ingly well satisfied. Alexander was crouched in 
a corner, sobbing, with his face hidden ; Monday 
and Tuesday got down beside him and coaxed 
and talked to him till they quieted him enough 
so that he told them that, ‘‘Gran’pap was on the 
ground dead, when he got there; he didn’t see 
that feller do it, but he had the club — an’ he 
did! — he did — ” 

Wednesday knelt beside Thursday’s chair 
and tried to talk to him in a natural way; to 
get his eyes, with that fixed glare in them, to 
leave the old man’s face, but he paid no attention 
until Wednesday proposed sending for his uncle. 


212 


YOU DIDN’T, OLD FELLOW!" 


Then he cried out sharply that they must not! 
they should not! — he would not have his uncle 
know !" 

“But he will have to know, Steve, old boy!" 
Wednesday faltered. The boys had all now 
crowded close around him, shutting from his 
sight the bed and its inert occupant; and also 
arousing the suspicions of the guards, who ap- 
proached with threatening gestures, but fell back 
when Monday showed that they were all empty- 
handed and had nothing to cut Thursday’s bonds, 
nor were they trying to untie the knots. 

Thursday looked at the boys as if just realiz- 
ing they were there, and began to shudder, cry- 
ing piteously, “O boys! boys!" 

“You didn’t do it, we know; of course you 
did n’t!" Wednesday said. “Of course, we know 
you did n’t, but just — ’’ he broke down, shaking 
his head. 

“You didn’t, old fellow! Just say you 
did n’t !’’ Tuesday begged. 

Thursday gasped wordlessly, and one of the 
men laughed. 

“Just say you did n’t !’’ Monday took his 
hands, that lay helpless upon his knees, his arms 
being bound to his elbows. “We do n’t care how 


213 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

bad it looks for you — say you did n’t ; that ’s all 
we want. That man said you denied it at first.” 

“Did I?” Thursday asked, blankly. “O 
boys!” he whispered, fearfully, shrinking down, 
“O boys — I do n’t know ! I was in such a rage ! 

I picked up a fence stake— I didn’t intend to 
use it! — but I don’t know^ — I saw red! — I was 
so mad! — all at once I saw everything red — 
then he — was down — and I was looking at him ! 
— O boys — I don’t know!” he dropped his head 
with a miserable groan. The boys could find 
no words to • even attempt comfort ; they could 
only show their sympathy in handclasps and little 
touches, and their own unashamed tears. 

A couple of women came in, looked at Mr. 
Perkins, pitied Alexander, stared unwinkingly at 
Thursday, with sibilant, whispered comments 
upon his hardened appearance and the awfulness 
of his crime, and went away. Others appeared 
and disappeared; many men loitered in the yard, 
talking, arguing, condemning; but no one of 
them all offered to do, or suggested that any- 
thing should be done, for Mr. Perkins. 

“Do n’t you think something should be tried ? 
He seems to breathe more regularly; maybe he 
could be aroused,” Monday said to one of the 
men, who answered jeeringly: 

214 


‘TOU DIDN’T, OLD FELLOW!” 


'‘Doc says his skull ’s mashed in, and he ’s 
as good as gone, but maybe you smarties know 
morn ’n he does. He says the breathing ’s just 
spasmodic and won’t last long, but maybe you 
know how to raise the dead ; it ’d keep yer crony’s 
neck out of the halter, so go on and do it.” 

This sally was greeted with laughter and 
nods of approval and assent. All the boys were 
under the cloud that so thickly enveloped Thurs- 
day, and all were deserving of contempt and con- 
demnation in the eyes of the curious spectators 
who had gathered and who were getting much 
enjoyable excitement from this thrilling break 
in the monotony of their stagnant lives. They 
were hard, too, in their judgments, with the 
intolerance of narrow, self-satisfied ignorance; 
but their eager demands for retribution and ex- 
treme punishment for Thursday did not arise 
from any regard for Mr, Perkins, and they ac- 
cepted the doctor’s verdict with indifference and 
without an effort to help the injured man. 

Worn out, Alexander went to sleep at last, 
and the cessation of his grieving whimper was 
a relief; Mr. Perkins still breathed, and listen- 
ing anxiously, Monday was certain that his 
breathing was stronger and more regular. The 
three boys kept close to Thursday, resolving to 

215 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


protect’ him from an attack at all hazards; but 
alas! they realized that when the law reached 
for him, they would have to let him go without 
a struggle. They longed to cut the rope, or at 
least loosen it, for his hands were becoming puffed 
and discolored ; but a move to do that would have 
brought the guards upon them. The men 
squatted about watching keenly, and smoking 
black pipes till the air was stifling, and Monday 
objected to the smoke, saying that it made 
breathing more difficult for Mr. Perkins; the 
youngest, who it seemed could understand what 
was said, explained to the others, and they all 
laughed hugely and smoked the more. 

When the doctor came again, those outside 
crowded in to hear what he thought by this time ; 
all the interminably long afternoon the old man 
had lingered, some of them had begun to think 
he even might live after all. But the doctor 
poohed the notion, and when some one told him 
of Monday’s proposed tinkering, as he called it, 
the doctor laughed a little and replied obstinately, 
but genially: 

“Nothing would do an atom of good. He ’s 
too old, for one thing, to stand up under such 
a blow, even if his skull hadn’t been broken. 
Nothing would do him any harm, either, and 
216 


YOU DIDN’T, OLD LELLOW!*^ 


I suppose if he had any one to care whether he 
lived or died, they ’d been fussing over him all 
this time, doing no good but relieving their feel- 
ings; he ’d die just the same, and better go with 
as little fuss as possible.” 

‘‘Old Perkins has n’t made the c’mmunity 
very fond of him ; he ’s tramped rough-shod over 
most of us, and do n’t many of us care whether 
he lives or not; but for all that he oughtn’t to 
be murdered, and the fellow that did it’ll get 
his dues,” a man said sourly, scowling at Thurs- 
day. 

“He ought to be taken to town and locked 
up to-night,” Lewis suggested. “These men 
can’t Stand guard here all the time ; they ’ve got 
to ’tend to the stock ; that ’ll have to be seen to 
till things ’s straightened out and a guardeen set 
for Alexander.” 

“These men can go. We ’re all going to stay 
here, and we ’ll give our word and his that Steve 
won’t try to get away,” Tuesday said, earnestly. 

They all roared. “Nice little game,” one 
commented; “you fellers had better scatter for 
home and have his folks rustle up the money to 
defend him. Maybe, as there was a quarrel, 
they ’ll make it manslaughter and save his neck 
from the noose — that is, if they get a good law- 
217 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

yer. Penitentiary for life is better than a broken 
neck.” 

The bitter, taunting speech stung the boys, 
though Thursday did not seem to notice it, but 
Wednesday flared out: 

“He ’s got money enough of his own to buy 
the whole of your dinky old county, if he should 
want it. He ’ll have the best lawyers in the 
United States!” 

“And you ’ll have to get an officer and a 
warrant for his arrest before you can take him 
away,” Monday asserted, although he was not 
sure of his ground. 

At this announcement of his wealth, every 
one turned and gazed upon Thursday with in- 
creased interest ; but presently one bristled up and 
muttered : 

“Well, if he ’s as rich as Caesar himself, he ’s 
not going to get off without paying for his crime 
the same as other and poorer men had to.” 

The doctor came again, and tried to give Mr. 
Perkins a stimulant as an experiment — so many 
thought it was worth trying; but he gave up 
the attempt almost at once, saying that the teeth 
were already tightly set, which was just as he 
had expected. 

“Pry them open with a spoon handle, and 
218 


‘‘YOU DID NT, OLD FELLOW 


rub his throat to make it go down ; I Ve done it 
many a time!’’ It was Mrs. Wilson, who had 
come in unobserved and had pushed her way to 
the doctor’s side, and now bent to look at Mr. 
Perkins. 

The boys could almost have shouted with 
relief; they had felt so helpless in the midst of 
that unsympathetic, hostile crowd. Mrs. Wilson 
would at least be sorry for Thursday, whether 
she thought him guilty or not, and she would 
help them protect him from an attack. 

“Cheer up, old boy,” Monday whispered, pat- 
ting Thursday’s shoulder. “Good, kind Ma Wil- 
son has come; she’ll be on our side.” 


219 


CHAPTER XIX 

^THAT’S WHAT I THINK, MUM!” 

The doctor turned, laughing amusedly, to Mrs. 
Wilson : “O, you can do that, yourself, or any- 

thing else you please. But it ’ll be about as much 
use as your trying to save Wilson’s leg.” 

‘‘Well, he’s got it yet, hasn’t he?” she re- 
torted, “and no worse than when you quit, if no 
better.” 

“If he ’d had it off, as he should, he ’d been 
hopping around with a crutch, as spry as a cricket 
now.” 

“Maybe, and maybe not,” Mrs. Wilson re- 
plied, absently. She was rapidly removing Mr. 
Perkins’s shoes and stockings, finding his feet 
cold, as well as his hands. 

“Why hasn’t something been done for him?” 
she demanded, sharply. “Left lying here for 
hours, like that ! Even if he ’s got to die, he 
might as well die comfortable. Here, boys, help 
me.” 

The three boys all sprang to her help, and 
they quickly got off Mr. Perkins’s coat and vest, 
unbuttoned his shirtband, and laid him in an 


220 


^^THAT^S WHAT I THINK, MUMT 


easier position. Then she set Monday building a 
quick fire to heat water, and Tuesday hunting a 
tub, while she and Wednesday rubbed Mr. Per- 
kins’s hands and feet. 

‘‘Just like chunks of ice,” she told the doctor. 
“Of course he could n’t get better, stiff with the 
cold, and no circulation.” 

“He ’ll never be any warmer,” the doctor as- 
serted, “but fuss with him all you please, it won’t 
hurt him,” he chuckled with the listeners, and 
added, “I ’ll look in as I go by to Clark’s in the 
morning, unless you ’ve been up for the warrant, 
and stop and tell me,” he informed the men, as 
he left. 

Most of the neighboring men went when he 
did, leaving two or three to wait about for the 
moment to come when they could bring the 
charge of murder against Thursday, when they 
were to go for the officer and necessary papers 
to arrest him. Monday’s remonstrance had had 
that much effect. 

Mrs. Wilson soon had Mr. Perkins’s feet in a 
hot bath, with Monday rubbing them, while she 
administered a dose of the stimulant, with 
Wednesday to help her in the expected struggle 
with the set teeth, but it was taken easily. 

“Why, he’s better!” she exclaimed joyfully. 

22 1 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“His teeth are not set now; he’s swallowed it 
himself, and he ’s warming up ! — there ’s a little 
speck of color coming in his face ! I ’d a come 
long ago if I ’d known they were leaving him 
lie like this, and him alive ! It ’s inhuman to let 
him lie here hours, cold as ice, and do nothing 
for him. I thought there ’d be a houseful, and 
everybody doing all they could. It was out that 
he was dead at first, too ; when I heard different 
I come right over. I wish I ’d come sooner.’ 

She was working rapidly as she talked, and 
presently Mr. Perkins was comfortably warm, 
breathing easily, with a pink glow on his cheeks ; 
blankets over him, a thick cold compress bound 
about his head, and a hot iron at his feet. 

“I wish that doctor was here to see that he 
is warm now, and he swallows, and breathes easy 
and natural. He ’s better ; maybe he ’ll rouse up 
after while.” 

She went to the kitchen and returned with a 
sharp butcher knife, with which she immediately 
pounced upon Thursday’s bonds: “The idea of 
cording up the jwor boy like that ! she cried, 
indignantly, sawing at the rope. 

The guards sprang forward, but she flour- 
ished the knife, blazing : “Touch me if you dare, 
and there ’ll be a fight. Here ’s three big boys 


222 


THAT ’S WHAT I THINK, MUM r 


to help me!'' Monday, Wednesday, and Tuesday 
had jumped beside her when they understood her 
intention. ^‘The boy 'll be here when he 's 
wanted! — and you fellows get out of here! get 
right out, all of you!" 

She threw the rope out of the window, and, 
seizing the broom, shooed the three men out as 
if they were old hens, telling them, as well as 
the neighbor men in the yard, what she thought 
of ‘'a dozen or so great louts setting on to a 
boy and roping him so tight that he was almost 
crippled and his flesh in welts!" 

She ordered the guards to stay out, too — 
that she would n't have them squatting around 
under her feet, smoking like chimneys. Then 
she took Alexander to the kitchen for a good 
washing. 

‘‘Mercy me, but you need it!" she told him, 
“with all your crying and snubbing, and rub- 
bing your eyes with your dirty hands, you 're 
like a little pig. And you 're half starved, too, 
I know, as well as all those boys in there — none 
of you had a bite since morning. There!" and 
to little Alexander's confusion (he could n't re- 
member of a woman ever kissing him !) she gave 
him a sounding kiss, “You help me, now, and 
we'll get some supper in a jiffy." 


223 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


The boys rubbed Thursday’s extremities, talk- 
ing eagerly and hopefully. Mr. Perkins was 
plainly better — he might get all over it. 

“But that doesn’t let you out of it,” com- 
mented Lewis, disagreeably; he had returned, 
and was leaning in the open window. “Even if 
Perkins lives, which is n’t at all likely, you ’ll be 
tried for assault with intent to kill, for you can’t 
deny it was an attempt to murder the poor old 
man.” 

Thursday, who had been walking about 
slowly, exercising, with a brightening face, sud- 
denly sat down, weak with the realization that 
as long as he lived— though Mr. Perkins got 
.yvell — he would be marked as one who had es- 
caped the hangman only because his attempt to 
kill had failed ! And he had not really intended 
to touch the old man, he had only as usual given 
way to his uncontrolled temper — he had brought 
it upon himself! 

“You ’d better have showed some of your 
pity doing something for Mr. Perkins, instead 
of standing around, picking on a boy, and leav- 
ing your old neighbor to die!” Mrs. Wilson said 
sharply to Lewis. 

“That ’s what I think, mum !” 

“Well, by George!” exclaimed Lewis, open- 
224 


‘‘THAT’S WHAT I THINK, MUM!” 

mouthed. The rest stood like statues for an 
astonished instant, then with a rush that shook 
the floor, Mrs. Wilson whirled to the bed and 
leaned over Mr. Perkins, demanding: 

“Did you speak?” 

“Yes, mum, and I think just like you do.” 

“He did speak! His eyes are open! He 
looks as natural as life!” she cried. “I wish 
that doctor was here, I just wish he was here 
to see that he is alive !” she sobbed in her apron 
an instant, but stopped immediately to exult: “I 
knew he was n’t near dead ! He ’s going to live, 
boys!” 

“I be that, if I know anything about it!” 
Mr. Perkins declared, firmly. 

“By George!” Mr. Lewis repeated, vaguely. 
The men outside rushed in at sound of Mr. Per- 
kins’s voice, followed by the three guards, and 
all stood gaping. Mr. Perkins surveyed them 
with a sarcastic smile, as he said to his neighbors : 

“If you had n’t swallowed that mule story, 
hide and hoofs, and if you ’d looked close at me, 
you ’d seen that you need n’t wait around for me 
to die — not to-day. And if you ’d looked close 
down there,” he turned to Lewis, “if you ’d 
looked, you ’d seen that young feller never touched 
me.” 


16 


225 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


Thursday leaped up with a loud cry. 

“You ’re crazy, or you ’re trying to shield 
him,” one of the men asserted. 

“Ever know of me playin’ home missionary ?” 
Mr. Perkins demanded of his neighbors, grinning. 
“Here, you !” he motioned to the bewildered 
Thursday, “take that broom, flourish it threat- 
enin’, just as you did the stake down there! — 
haul off to strike! — do it in earnest! — bring ’er 
back like you was goin’ to bust my head open ! — 
there! now you smarty Gov’ment detectives, 
which side the head ’d he hit me on, supposin’ 
he did hit me?” 

He grinned again triumphantly at the tableau 
— Thursday with the broom drawn as if to strike 
with all his might, but shaking like a leaf, his 
intent white face beginning to lighten with a 
dawning hope; and the fringe of surprised spec- 
tators, who were already looking foolish with 
comprehension. 

“O, hallelujah ! hallelujah ! it ’s on the other 
side ! it ’s on the other side !” Monday suddenly 
shouted. They all perceived it, and the boys 
broke into a tumult of joy, pounding Thursday 
on the back, shaking hands with each other and 
him, even hugging him in the excess of their 
joyful excitement. Ma Wilson hurrahed, too, 
226 


‘THAT ’S WHAT I THINK, MUM !’ 


and cried a little, and hushed them as being too 
much for Mr. Perkins. The neighbors laughed 
somewhat sheepishly, looking at Lewis as if to 
put it off on him, and waited for the explanation 
which Mr. Perkins was plainly ready to give. 
He put up a hand, stilling the joyful uproar of 
the boys, and went on: 

“He never touched me — he was n’t close 
enough; but if he’d really meant to belt me, 
he could ’ve got close enough, of course — he 
threatened big — an’ shook his fence stake — an’ 
I shook my club an’ threatened as big! We 
was both boilin’ ! an’ both had clubs — did n’t look 
to see mine by me, did you? — it’s down there 
yet where I fell. I was yappin’ away, an’ prancin’ 
around hot, an’ I tripped an’ pitched over head 
first, an’ cracked my own skull on a big rock — an’ 
if you ’d looked, Lewis, you ’d seen how I laid 
with my head on the stone. Get out an’ tend 
to the stock !” he ordered the workmen, roughly, 
“an’ I ’m much obleeged to you neighbors, but 
I guess you ain’t needed now.” 

Thursday was sobbing heavily, his face hid- 
den in the bedclothes, crjnng like a child with 
the relief of the lifting of that crushing weight 
and the sudden knowledge and proof that he 
was n’t guilty. 


227 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“There, there, sonny!” Ma Wilson comforted, 
taking his head on her heaving bosom, sobbing 
with him. “There! You didn’t do the awful 
thing; you can begin right now and get the 
better of that temper that came near making 
you do it.” 

“O, I will! I will!” Thursday cried. “O, 
boys, boys ! To think I am free of it ! — like you 
again! — no bloodstain on my hands!” he spread 
them out and looked at them as if to be sure 
of the blessed truth. 

Mr. Perkins blew his nose loudly on the loose 
end of the bandage about his head. 

“Why, where ’s a handkerchief for you !” Mrs. 
Wilson dived into the drawer of the old bureau, 
blowing her own nose on her apron. 

Mr. Perkins reached for Thursday ’s hand, 
saying ; “That ’s where I wanted you to get, 
young feller. Where you ’d find out what a 
dreadful thing it ’d be to take life, in a fit of 
anger.” 

“You wanted him! — how long have you 
sensed things?” Mrs. Wilson demanded. 

“About the time they got me in, I reckon, 
though I was sort o’ hazy for quite a bit longer. 
But ’t was n’t the bump alone ; it was some sort 
o’ spell I ’ve had a time or two. I knew better n 
228 


‘‘THAT ’S WHAT I THINK, MUM !’ 


to be rampagin' so; only, like the young fellow 
here, I Ve always let myself go” 

“And you set your teeth against the doctor's 
spoon yourself !" she exclaimed. 

“I let Doc find what he expected," he twinkled. 
“He got his opinion mostly from Lewis’s mule; 
did n’t examine for himself.’’ 

“And you laid there and kept that poor boy 
in misery all that time!’’ 

“I wanted it to get rubbed into him good and 
hard, so ’s he ’d never fergit it. He had n’t 
oughter spoil himsself that way.’’ 

“Well, I must say, you ’re a great one to 
give him a lesson,’’ Mrs. Wilson laughed. 

“Yes, mum, that ’s so. But he do n’t want 
to be like me, does he?’’ he chuckled a bit. “And 
I was gettin’ my dose, too, findin’ out how I ’d 
endeared myself to the community. I ’ve lived 
here among ’em all my life, an’ there was n’t 
one that cared enough for me to put a wet rag 
on my bump; an’ it ain’t their fault, neither. 
I cal’late you ’re goin’ to have comp’ny in the 
reformin’ business, young feller, an’ you ain’t 
goin’ to have the worst of it. I ’m such a set 
old donkey, I ’xpect it ’ll be tough gettin’ broke, 
but I ’m goin’ to begin right now. Mrs. Wilson, 
mum — ’’ he hesitated, his face red, — ‘“you ’ve 
229 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

been givin’ me a lesson, mum, cornin’ here an’ 
doin’ for me, when I ’ve been such a cantankerous 
old hog to you folks— but if you’ll fergit it, 
mum, an’ give me a try, I ’ll see if I can’t be 
a little more like human folks. An’ if I git to 
rampagin’ off the reform track, I ’d like you to 
give me a sort of boost back on it agin, mum.” 

“There, it ’s all right,” Mrs. Wilson grasped 
his outstretched hand and patted it soothingly ; 
she could not bear to have people uncomfortable. 
“We must help one another; we’re none of us 
too good. Pa ’ll be so tickled to have you coming 
in every day ; he ’s the greatest hand for com- 
pany ! You come right over as soon as you can 
walk it. And now you ’ve got to rest while I 
get supper ; I know your head aches.” 

“Yes, mum, but it ain’t a bit cracked— just 
a big bump; an’ it ain’t achin’ like it was when 
you put my feet in that hot water. My! but 
it was good to get warmed up! — I was feelin’ 
fairly stiff.” 

“And you just laid there, never said a word !” 

“I wanted both of us to get a good lesson,” 
he reiterated, grinning. “I reckon you’ll have 
to dog Alexander home, mum ; he ’ll be there 
so much if I turn him loose.” He tousled the 
small head that lopped on the pillow beside him ; 

230 


‘‘THAT’S WHAT I THINK, MUMT 


Alexander had stood there in speechless joy ever 
since his gran’pap had “come alive.” 

“Mercy me! the child’s welcome to come as 
much as he likes,” Mrs. Wilson returned; “now 
you rest till I bring you some supper.” She 
took Alexander to the kitchen with her. 

But Mr. Perkins was not quite ready to rest. 
“Did n’t you say, down there, that your gun was 
stolen?” he asked Thursday. 

“Yes, sir. But I don’t care at all! — I don’t 
care for anything else, now I know I did n’t 
strike you, and you ’re getting all right. Please 
don’t mention it?” Thursday begged; the gun 
was a painful subject to him. 

“O, I reckon we’d better straighten it out,” 
Mr. Perkins said ; “I do n’t know anything about 
it, but one of the men might have stolen it. I ’ll 
send Alexander for them.” 

They one and all denied any knowledge of 
the gun, earnestly declaring that they had never 
taken anything from the boys’ camp. 

“I ordered you not to,” Mr. Perkins reminded 
them, and again, through the youngest, who was 
spokesman and interpreter, they reiterated that 
they had not. The boys glanced at each other 
meaningly; Mr. Perkins had not been as bad as 
they had imagined. 


231 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘T suppose they 're lying/’ Mr. Perkins re- 
marked when the men had gone. The boys 
thought so, too, for the gun had unmistakably 
disappeared. 

Mrs. Wilson had assured Monday when she 
first came that Sunday was all right. Winnie 
had coaxed him up, and he was playing happily 
with Nell; while Friday, Saturday, and Henry 
J., taking advantage of the unexpected holiday, 
were enthusiastically hunting the treasure. 

She had to go home after supper, but thought 
she ought to come back and take care of Mr. 
Perkins that night, as serious results might yet 
arise from such a blow on the head (which he 
persisted in calling a bump), added to the ‘‘spell.” 

But the boys eagerly insisted on staying and 
taking care of him; Thursday would not have 
left him on any account. 

The other three boys went with Mrs. Wilson, 
Tuesday and Wednesday to get the horse left 
up there, take it down to its lonely mate, and 
attend to everything at the camp ; while Monday 
persuaded little Sunday to stay all night with Ma 
Wilson — an easy matter now, for he was well 
acquainted and content, and, too, the smaller 
boys would be with him. Then they all returned 
to stay with Thursday and Mr. Perkins. 

232 


CHAPTER XX 

THE “SCOOP OF THE SNEAK” 

The boys attended to Mr. Perkins with such 
solicitude that he vowed they almost made him 
think there was really something the matter with 
him. He rested pretty well, but submitted meekly 
to Mrs. Wilson’s mandate that he stay in bed that 
day; also, to the scolding she gave him for not 
having something done for the “spells.” 

“Yes, mum, I ’xpect I ’d ought to,” he agreed; 
“but I did n’t think of it ; I ain’t used to coddling 
myself.” 

He was up the second morning, “good as 
ever, but for a swelled head,” he declared; and 
after the early breakfast, which the boys prepared 
and cleared up, he sent them away with awkward 
thanks, insisting that they had already wasted too 
much time on him. 

The other boys expected that Thursday would 
now, of course, go to Ma’s Legacy with them and 
share in the work, fun, and Treasure hunting, 
and were considerably disappointed when he left 
them with no explanation, merely saying that he 

233 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


would see to the horses ; but they agreed that he 
might not feel quite himself, and want to be alone. 

They were warmly welcomed, and while they 
talked things over with Mr. Wilson, who was 
waiting eagerly, Monday had the smaller boys go 
down after another supply of canned goods, then 
they would all hustle at the work together. He 
would much rather they all went to camp for 
their dinners, for neither he nor the other big 
boys were satisfied with what they put in, but 
Ma Wilson would not hear of that. 

‘‘We are eating you out of house and home, 
the gang of us,” he told her. 

“You are making us sure of enough to eat 
next winter, the gang of you,” she retorted. 

The boys came back with the news that Thurs- 
day had gone away somewhere with one of the 
horses, but he ’d left the tent and everything 
else, all right. “Skidooed a horseback this time,” 
Friday grinned, unsubdued by the seriousness of 
the affair, which he had not seen. 

Wednesday warned him not to make any more 
such speeches in Thursday’s hearing, as there 
would not be any more “skidooes” as he called 
them. 

They all went to work, determined to catch 
up on lost time — that is, the big boys were, and 

234 


THE ^‘SCOOP OF THE SNEAK’’ 

the smaller ones were kept up to the mark 
by dangling the reward of treasure hunting be- 
fore their eyes constantly. 

It was getting towards noon, and they were 
all working away, when there suddenly burst out 
the blare-'of their horn, ‘‘Toot! to-o-ot! to-o-ot! 
toot!” and there was Thursday marching up 
through the orchard, waving his hat and tooting 
as if he were trying to rouse a sleeping city. 
The boys all raced for him, and they met near 
the house ; he was now beating time with the horn, 
and yelling: 

“ ’T is the scoop of the sneak! 

Of the sneak, sneak, sneak! 

*T is the sco-o-op, ’t is the sco-o-op 

’T is the scoop of the ornery young sneak! ” 

He danced about, pointing triumphantly to 
the tent, just discernible through the drooping 
branches of the elms, at the foot of the orchard, 
the place he had heard described so many times 
as such a desirable spot, and he kept roaring 
again and again the new version, till quick Fri- 
day immediately adopted it, soon assisted by Sat- 
urday and Henry J. : 

“ ’T is the scoop of the sneak, sneak — ” 

“That ’s all right !” Thursday cheered on the 
smaller boys. “It ’s what I ’ve been, and I think 

235 


THE SWOOP OP THE WEEK 


I worked the scoop on you all right, too. Pretty 
good old scoop, too, is n’t it, boys, for the sneak?” 

‘‘You quit calling yourself names,” Ma Wilson 
ordered, as she grabbed him and took him to pa 
to be introduced. 

“So this is the missing day, is it?” Pa Wil- 
son asked, genially; “looks like a bright, breezy 
sort o’ day, too.” 

“I Ve just cleared of¥, sir,” Thursday replied, 
soberly ; “I ’ve been an awfully uncertain kind 
of day, sun one minute, thunder storm the next, 
and I ’ve just had a cyclone! — ^but, but I ’m going 
to be the clear, settled kind of weather that can 
be depended upon, if I can.” 

With this confession and declaration he put 
away disagreeables, and turned to the boys, laugh- 
ing : “I did n’t know but you ’d bring the other 
horse up here while I was gone, but I ’d got one 
of Mr. Perkins’s if you had; I wasn’t going to 
have my scoop spoiled. And I was afraid you ’d 
hear me and find out before I was ready; I had 
to make some noise getting fixed, but I can do 
it pretty slick now; had so much practice, you 
know ;” he grinned, and the boys laughed, while 
Friday yelled at Wednesday. “No more ski- 
dooes !” 


236 


THE ^^SCOOP OF THE SNEAK’^ 


^^Come on and see the camp/’ Thursday in- 
vited everybody, and Winnie in particular, and 
an immediate stampede followed of everybody 
but Pa and Ma Wilson; pa did his best though, 
clapping and cheering the runners. 

There was no running back, though, for every- 
body was loaded with what Thursday called his 
‘‘spread in celebration of his scoop.” And a 
spread it proved to be when it was ready for 
the company. 

“Must have cleaned out the store at the sta- 
tion,” Monday told him. 

“All I could carry in a big sack on the horse,” 
Thursday beamed. He could scarcely eat for 
running up garret to see where the “clue” was 
found, and what the prospects were for other 
clues up there; and running down cellar to see 
where they had come so near finding the treas- 
ure; and running around the house to look ofif 
at the rocky ridge and cliff, that might well have 
the treasure in safe keeping. He won Winnie’s 
heart entirely by his enthusiasm concernng the 
treasure, and his certainty that there was one — 
and he was just as certain that they would find 
it as the smaller boys were. He puzzled over the 
“clue,” which was Pa Wilson’s especial care, and 

237 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


insisted that the soiled spot in the blank, where 
the name of the treasure should be, meant some- 
thing important if they could only discover what. 

‘Tf we find out what that spot means, we ’ll 
know what to look for, and that would make 
finding it easy,” he declared. 

"‘O, I know that is so ! Let ’s all think hard !” 
Winnie cried, clasping her hands over her eyes 
in the endeavor to pierce the mystery of the soiled 
spot on the ‘‘clue.” 

It was a determined, energetic company that 
swept into the field after dinner and attacked 
the weeds with the victorious slogan, all together 
once more : 


“ ’T is the swoop of the Week, 

On the weeds, weeds, weeds! ” 

“It’s our good old Week now, for sure!” 
Monday exclaimed. 

Pa Wilson was at his porthole in the vines, 
of course, adding to the war-cry melodiously, and 
winning unstinted praise from Thursday for his 
skill and happy ability at improvising. 

Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were especially happy. 
They realized that the great help the boys were 
giving them in doing the work had been the 
cause of unpleasantness among them, and re- 
238 


THE ‘‘SCOOP OF THE SNEAK’ 


joiced that the Week was harmoniously united 
again. They would not have offered pay for 
such a kindness had they been able, but they 
planned to have the Week spend the vacation with 
them at Ma’s Legacy every summer as their 
guests; for there would be an abundance and 
to spare when Mr. Wilson was well and had 
mastered the farming business. 

The boys were in such fine spirits that the 
work went with a “whoop,’’ as Wednesday said; 
the kaffir corn was all planted, and such a lot 
done on the corn and potatoes, that they were 
willing to stop for the day when, late in the 
afternoon, Mrs. Wilson called to them that they 
had done enough, and Mr. Perkins was there 
and wanted to see all of them. Wondering if 
anything more had come up, they picketed the 
horses and went to the house. 

Mr. Perkins shook hands all round with great 
friendliness; but Alexander spoke to no one, and 
crouched close to his grandpa’s side, his red 
eyes and woebegone aspect bespeaking trouble 
for him ; and the boys dropped about on the grass 
to hear what had happened. 

“Well, here I am all right, you see,” Mr. 
Perkins began ; “I ’m a mite achy at the top yet, 
and a sore head, of course, but nothing to hurt. 


239 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

I would n’t ’ve come across this evening thougn, 
only there’s things need straightening out, and 
the sooner the better on account o’ this feller,” 
he touched Alexander, who hid his face. “I 
wasn’t satisfied about that gun business, and I 
had all them fellers up to the house again, an’ 
put ’em through a course o’ questionin’. I — I 
reckon I kind o’ forgot reformin’ an’ got some 
hot under the collar,” he hemmed apologetically, 
“an’ the young feller done likewise, an’ we had it 
pretty brisk, neither o’ us understandin' the other 
any too well, but he was usin’ all his swear words, 
I could see that; an’ he got terrible excited, an’ 
looked so fierce that the real thief was nearly 
scared into fits, thinkin’ there was goin’ to be 
blood shed, an’ he up an’ confessed. Guess who 
’t is.” 

Mr. Perkins waited, looking about with en- 
joyment of the boys mystified faces; they did 
not venture a guess. 

“It was just this speckled, little tike!” he 
finished, laughing, with a hand on Alexander’s 
head. 

“No!” “How could he?” “What for?” 
“Your ’re joking !” the four big boys exclaimed 
in chorus. 

“Just this speckled, little tike!” Mr. Perkins 
240 


THE ‘‘SCOOP OF THE SNEAK^ 


rq)eated. “The ‘how’ an’ ‘what for’ is consid- 
erable of a story, an’ the bearin’ of it showed 
me what a stubborn old billygoat I ’ye been, so 
set on raisin’ the boy alone, an’ the mess I ’m 
makin’ of it. Alexander ’s been sort o’ down 
in the mouth lately, an’ I thought he was fixin’ 
for a sick spell, not knowin’ what was goin’ 
on underneath. He ’d took up with that youngest 
furriner, bein’ lonesome for comp’ny, I reckon, 
though I ’d never sensed that he ’d got where 
he felt the need of it, an’ they ’ve been havin’ 
some fun of their own with you fellers down 
there — leastways, it was fun at first, but Alex- 
ander got the notion that feller was goin’ — ” 

“He was! he was! he was goin’ to shoot 
him with his own gun, he was! he was! an’ he 
was goin’ to carry off the little feller what looks 
like the angel in my book, — he was! he was!” 
Alexander shrilled. Reiteration was his strong 
point, and he cried, “He was! he was!” until 
his grandpa took him up and hushed him. 

“Never mind, sonny; maybe he was. Any- 
way, it was mean to threaten an’ scare you so.” 
Mr. Perkins turned to his audience and went on 
with his story: “Alexander said that after the 
trick of runnin’ that feller ’round the tree, he 
crossed himself, hope-to-die, like they all do for 


16 


241 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


everything, that he ’d shoot the one that done 
it with his own gun, an' he 'd steal the little 
one, that does look like Alexander's angel, an' 
carry him off. Of course, he could n't 've 
meant to do any such thing, — he was denyin' it 
all the time Alexander was pourin' it out; an' 
I finally understood he was claimin' that Alex- 
ander did n't get the right meanin' of his threats 
an' signs an' the pictures he made, but I dunno. 
Mebbe he 's just been playin' with the poor little 
chap; but I know he’s been teachin' him to 
burgle.” 

‘‘To what ?” Mrs. Wilson demanded. 

“Yes, mtum, to burgle. Showin’ him how to 
slip 'round nights an' sneak things outen tents 
an' such, an' the folks not catch 'em; though he 
didn't really steal anything;” Mr. Perkins shut 
a laugh inside his puckered lips. 

“My evaporated pants!” Monday exclaimed. 

“The bandit sign!” Friday cried. 

“Both of 'em,” Mr. Perkins nodded. 

“But we had n't done anything to those fel- 
lows then,” Thursday said. 

“Nor when they were prowling around the 
time the boys here got the bandit scare,” Wednes- 
day added. 


242 


THE “SCOOP OP THE SNEAK’’ 


“O, Alexander was along, too; he was one 
o’ the bandits,” Mr. Perkins laughed. 

Friday and Saturday looked at each other 
with red, vexed faces, ashamed of their panic. 
‘‘But you did n’t know it was them,” Henry J. 
said to the abashed boys, in an aside, which helped 
them to their self-respect again. 

“I dunno what all they ’ve been up to,” Mr. 
Perkins went on, “but they begun to pester you 
fellows, just a-teasin’, feelin’ they had the privi- 
lege to on account o’ my cantankerousness about 
you bein’ down there. I ’ve been plagued time 
an’ agin with smarty hunters, rampagin’ all over 
my place, tearin’ down fences an’ lettin’ out stock, 
gettin’ where they was a-goin’ an’ no business 
to be,” he threw this in with some heat, as a sort 
of apology for his “cantankerousness.” 

“And you ’re not the only one that ’s been 
run over by them,” Mr. Wilson remarked. 
“Some of those town hunters need jailing, not 
satisfied with all outside, but a chasing over folks’ 
fields.” 

“That ’s so!” Mr. Perkins looked much grati- 
fied at this cordial assent to his view. 


243 


CHAPTER XXI 

A CREDIT TO HIS ANCESTORS 

“First off I took you fellers for a huntin’ gang,” 
Mr. Perkins resumed, “and I reckoned he put up 
the claim to the bottom as a offset to my orderin’ 
you out; but when he kept it a-goin’, an’ took to 
lookin’ up lines, I got to thinkin’ there was some- 
thing in it ; but I was n’t goin’ to take his say so 
about my fences ; I ’m some touchy concernin’ 
borders;” he glanced at Mr. Wilson, amending, 
“I mean, I was so.” 

Mr. Wilson laughed and nodded. 

“An’ I was n’t goin’ to let him tell me where 
my corners was, either. I set them men down 
there to keep you out o’ my field,” he said to 
Thursday; “I told them to scare you off, but I 
told ’em, too, if they hurt you a lick they ’d go 
to jail. The jail threat seems to scare ’em ter- 
rible.” 

“And they would n’t have clubbed me !” 
Thursday exclaimed. 

“They would n’t ’ve dast to. And I knowed 
you would n’t dast to shoot any of ’em.” 

244 


A CREDIT TO HIS ANCESTORS 


*T must ask your pardon, Mr. Perkins,” 
Thursday said, quickly ; 'T Ve been charging you 
up with everything mean, and it seems I was 
doing the most of it” 

‘T reckon we was pretty much of a muchness. 
I did n't hurt myself tryin' to stop it. I s'pose 
I had ought to 've stopped the fight 'twixt the 
boys,” he hesitated, a little shamefaced, “but — 
well — Alexander 'd never been tried, an' I did 
want to see if he 'd go back on the fightin' blood 
in him.” 

“Well, if you aren't the greatest man for a 
grandpa!” Mrs. Wilson exclaimed, while every- 
body laughed and shouted. 

“He 's a good fighter, all right ! He 's the 
best one I ever fit with,” Saturday quickly and 
gracefully handed this bouquet to his late an- 
tagonist in the ring; Mr. Perkins looked proud, 
and patted Alexander. 

“And I held the other one because I did n't 
want Alexander to get licked too bad. A boy 's 
like a pup — if he 's beat too bad first time, his 
spirit 's broke, an' he ain't good for much after- 
wards.” 

There was another outburst of laughter, Mr. 
Perkins was so sober and earnest in the expres- 
sion of his unusual views as to testing a boy. 

245 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“But I ’d be ashamed for two of us to pitch 
on to one, and he littler ’n me. I was n’t goin’ 
to help Saturday, Mr. Perkins; honest I wasn’t,” 
Friday declared. 

“Then I mis j edged you, and you ’ll have to 
excuse my interferin’ with you. Anyway, Alex- 
ander come out of it all right, only some bloody 
from his nose, an’ bruised and scratched, of 
course; he was fierce as a gamecock for another 
battle, which wasn’t necessary, his havin’ been 
proved, and I told him so. I was mighty glad 
to see his Revolutionary blood a-showin’, though. 
And here I be, a long ways from the gun. When 
Alexander got so worked up about the bandits 
goin’ to shootin’ an’ kidnapin’, he undertook to 
run you out himself. He says he asked the gun 
feller to go, an’ told him he’d be sorry if he 
did n’t ; an’ when that did n’t do any good, he 
warned the big brother of the little chap, though 
he had to run right into the pack o’ you to do 
it. I take it that was some brave of Alexander,” 
Mr. Perkins looked around inquiringly. 

“It certainly was ! He ’s a credit to his an- 
cestors,” Monday said, heartily. 

“And say! — was it just that little skeezicks, 
Saturday night, prowling around the camp?” 
Wednesday asked. 


246 


A CREDIT TO HIS ANCESTORS 


'T wuz a-tryin’ to find the gun/’ Alexander 
answered for himself. ‘‘He said he ’d shoot him 
— an’ he would, too ! — but I could n’t find it. It 
wmz n’t in the wagon where you kep’ it.” 

“How did you know where we kept it?” Tues- 
day asked. 

“I knowed where you kep’ all your things,” 
Alexander asserted, “only it wuz n’t there that 
night.” 

“Hear! hear! hear!” Tuesday cried, clapping 
his hands and starting a storm of applause and 
laughter. 

“Well, my sakes! wouldn’t that jar you?” 
Wednesday said to Monday; “we two in there 
holding on to our nerves and breath — woods full 
of bandits that might break loose any minute! — 
and only that little — O, don’t tell it to any- 
body!” he flopped over on the grass. 

“But you know Thursday might have made 
it pretty serious, bouncing about in the dark with 
the gun,” Monday laughingly reminded him. 

“That ’s so ! There was some danger. I re- 
vive, and grab my self-esteem again with both 
fists;” Wednesday straightened up. 

Thursday had listened to this with astonish- 
ment, and when it was explained to him, he was 
more disgusted than Wednesday had been. 

247 


THE SWOOP OE THE WEEK 


‘T ’m a great sentry, I am !” he cried. “Lie 
there and snore, and let bandits walk all over 
me 

“We ’d been glad if you had snored to keep 
yourself from waking up,’’ Monday told him. 
“But say, Alexander, what was it thumped down 
on the ground back there?” 

“It was me; I slid down the wagon pole an’ 
tipped off,” Alexander said. “I wuz afaid that 
. feller ’d git the gun. It was him an’ me hollerin’ 
back at you up there, an’ he was awful mad 
when he heard the gun, an’ we run; an’ he wuz 
goin’ to steal out the gun an’ shoot him when 
he found him alone — an’ he wuz a-goin’ to steal 
the little feller, too, an’ carry — ” Alexander 
broke down and hid his face. 

“The rascally scamp !” Mrs. Wilson exclaimed, 
indignantly; “he was just tormenting the poor 
child.” 

“Well, but was n’t you afraid, running around 
in the woods alone so, dark nights?” Wednesday 
asked. 

Alexander looked up, surprised. “Naw ; they 
ain’t nothin’ in the woods to hurt you.” 

“ T know — I ’ve been a boy !’ ” Monday 
quoted to Thursday, laughingly. 

248 


A CREDIT TO HIS ANCESTORS 


“That ’s all right. I was n’t that kind,” 
Thursday admitted, cheerfully. “When I was 
his size, if I had to even cross the park alone 
in the dark, I skidooed, you can bet. Wolves 
and bears and lions, thick as leaves on the trees.” 

“They ain’t nothin’ in the woods to hurt you,” 
Alexander repeated, stoutly. “I ’ve been down 
t’ your camp most ever’ night since you come. 
I wanted to be in, — I — I ain’t never had any 
boy to play with.” 

“You poor, lonesome, little soul!” Mrs. Wil- 
son cooed, pityingly. 

“An’ it was you popped us when we first 
got there! — Where was you?” Friday demanded, 
excitedly. 

“Up in that big ellum where your old torches 
could n’t reach me ; but I never meant to hit the 
little feller; I just wanted to see if I could make 
you hop from so fur off,” he jumbled. 

“We hopped, all right, and howled, too,” Fri- 
day said, amid a general laugh. 

“Why did n’t you come and get acquainted ; 
we would n’t have hurt you ?” Monday said. 

Alexander looked doubtfully at his grand- 
father. 

“O, I reckon he felt shy of you on account 
249 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


of the way I took your bein’ down there. He 
could n’t ’xpect you to be friends with him and 
his gran’pap doin’ his best to run you ofif,” Mr. 
Perkins interposed; and he added, unexpectedly: 
‘'But the bull got out hisself; he wasn’t turned 
loose on ye. I ain’t sayin’, though, that I was 
sorry, when I found he had n’t hurt none of ye.” 

“What was it you popped us with ?” Saturday 
asked, eagerly. 

But Alexander only grinned, seeming not to 
find words to explain. 

“He ’s always a contrivin’ something,” Mr. 
Perkins said. “But here we be again, miles away 
from that gun.” 

“Tell us when you got it. Big Chief,” Thurs- 
day said to Alexander. 

The small boy’s face flushed and he straight- 
ened with pride at being called things ! as they 
called each other. 

“It was when you went to the spring. I was 
in the tent, under the blankets, waitin’ to get it ; 
I crawled in from behind — ” 

“Why, you ’re a perfect Injun ! Boys, he ’s 
one of us, sure!” Thursday cried. 

Alexander laughed out, and went on : “It 
was a-standin’ by the door inside, where you left 
250 


A CREDIT TO HIS ANCESTORS 


it, an’ I pulled it out back by the handle, an’ took 
it away — but them fellers had come an’ was 
fightin’ you — an’ I thought they was goin’ to 
kill you, an’ I was awful scared — an’ I dragged 
it some ’rs, an’ hid it in the leaves by a log — 
an’ I run back to see if — if they — ” he stopped, 
sobbing. 

‘‘The poor little mite has had a hard time;” 
Mrs. Wilson gathered him into her kindly arms. 

“And he hung around there in the bushes 
like a scared rabbit, watchin’ till you fellers come 
an’ took out the bagged one an’ took him to camp, 
an’ he was all right again. And then it was so 
dark he could n’t find the log where he put the 
gun, and he ain’t found it yet,” Mr. Perkins 
finished. 

“I would n’t a let you roll into the river,” 
Alexander looked up to say to Thursday; “I’d 
a cut you loose, only they said — if I did they ’d 
do worse to you, an’ I — I wuz — ” 

“There, there, you never mind,” Mrs. Wilson 
comforted him. She looked severely at Mr. Per- 
kins, adding, “The idea of you letting such a 
little boy run around like that, night after night!” 

“Yes, mum, that ’s so,” Mr. Perkins took the 
rebuke meekly ; “but I ’ve never let Alexander 

251 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


feel that there was anything to be afraid of, 
day or night, an’ he ’s run loose, as you say, 
mum ; but I wanted him to be a credit to — ” 

“Well, you need n’t have made a night owl of 
him,” she interrupted, laughing. 

“That ’s it, you see,” Mr. Perkins admitted, 
“nor had him take up with bandits for want of 
better comp’ny, an’ learn to burgle, an’ such. 
I ’m a spilin’ him, keepin’ him with nobody but 
his old grandad ; I ’ve got to have some one to 
make a home for him. I ’m goin’ to get his 
mother, mum, though I ’ve always swore I 
wouldn’t! — I bargained with her for him; she 
was n’t stout an’ could n’t do for him — an’ she 
got my other Alexander, too — but he must have 
her, an’ I ’m a-reformin’,” he sighed deeply, as if 
he found the new road rough traveling. “I 
reckon I ’ll get used to it, mum, but it ’s goin’ 
to come sort o’ tough, havin’ women around 
all the while — there ’s a crippled old gran’mam 
Alexander ’ll have to wait on ; it ’ll do him good 
— an’ if I can’t stand it, an’ keep up to my new^ 
notch, I ’ll build a house in the yard for the 
women. Would that be all right do you think, 
mum?” he asked Mrs. Wilson. 

“Why yes, of course,” she declared. “I know 
it ’ll be hard for you, after having your house 


252 


A CREDIT TO HIS ANCESTORS 


to yourself so long; but the boy does need his 
mother/’ 

‘T reckon I ’ll begin on the house right away, 
then,” Mr. Perkins said with relief. 

Mr. Wilson slapped his well knee, and roared. 
Mr. Perkins smiled dryly, and rose: ‘AVe must 
go, Alexander. If he do n’t find the gun, or if 
it ’s spiled, I ’ll pay for it,” he told Thursday. 

‘T hope I ’ll never see it again !” Thursday 
replied, thinking with a shudder of his unreason- 
ing anger at its loss and the all but tragic result. 

“O, Mr. Perkins!” Winnie cried eagerly, hav- 
ing been anxiously waiting her chance; “please, 
did you ever hear anything about a treasure, or — 
or anything of that kind, being on Uncle Josh’s 
place ?” 

“Did the old man tell you there was any- 
thing?” he asked so quickly that it was plainly 
not a new thing to him. He sat down again, to 
the joy of Winnie, who felt that she was on 
the track of a clue at last. The boys crowded 
close; even Mr. and Mrs. Wilson leaned forward 
with interest. It began to look, incredible as it 
appeared, as if there was something in the treas- 
ure after all. 

Winnie answered Mr. Perkins: “He didn’t 
tell I S anything plain, but he hinted a whole lot, 

253 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


and he did say if we hunted we ’d find some- 
thing here that ’d make us — what was it, Henry 

J-?” 

‘‘That ’d made us think we had Alladin’s lamp 
— awful rich, you know,” Henry J. said promptly 
and explanatorily. “I ’d been readin’ that to him 
— an’ he said something about us digging it out, 
too.” 

“And pa thinks he just meant what we ’d get 
out of the crops we ’d raise by digging into good 
farming,” Winnie further explained. 

“If Mr. Perkins has ever heard anything 
about a valuable something being on the place, 
it can’t meant that, of course, or — could it?” 
Mr. Wilson looked at Mr. Perkins inquiringly. 

“I could n’t say that I heard anything, eggs- 
actly, except maybe hints; he tried too hard to 
keep it hid — but I ’ll tell you. It was a year or 
so before he tuckered clear out an’ went to you 
folks — he come over one day quite a considerable 
flustered, which I reckoned was natural, seein’ 
we had n’t been on speakin’ terms, ’ceptin’ to spat, 
for years. But he seemed to have somethin’ 
besides spattin’ on his mind this time, an’ he 
talked, an’ talked a lot of stuff that I could n’t 
get the meaniii’ of — seemed as if he was tryin’ 
to tell somethin’ without tellin’ it, — if you can 

254 


A CREDIT TO HIS ANCESTORS 

think how that ’d sound, you can see how much 
I understood of it But after a while I did 
understand that he was a-proposin’ that I should 
put money into somethin’ with him on shares, 
sight unseen, as they boys used to say — me just 
to take his word as to its payin’, or anything 
else about it, — sign a contract, an’ hand over 
the money, put it in the bank to his account, 
then he ’d tell me. It sounded so foolish I 
thought he was tormentin’ me at first, an’ I riled 
up some; but he said, solemn, that he was in 
cold earnest — then, o’ course, I wanted to know 
all about it before puttin’ up my money, an’ he 
would n’t tell a word more ; an’ I said he must 
take me for a fool, an’ so on, an’ we both got 
hot, an’ he told me I was a fool for throwin’ 
away more money by not takin’ his offer than 
I ’d even seen ; an’ I told him if it was a good 
offer he would n’t be ashamed of it, an’ so on. 
He said at last that he ’d be sure I ’d never have 
the chance agin, an’ if I only knew what he 
could tell me, I ’d beg him to let me put my 
money in it. I answered I reckoned I knowed 
enough to keep what I had an’ not waste it 
buyin’ any news that could come out o’ his old 
noddle; an’ we had it till I ordered him off the 
place, an’ he went, shakin’ his fist an’ vowin’ 

255 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


I ’d never know it, less he told me on my death- 
bed to make my goin’ harder, for knowin’ what 
I ’d missed. I did n’t think there was any dan- 
ger o’ that, seein’ he was so much older ’n me ; 
an’ he must ’ve forgot that part, for he tried to 
make the same bargain with Holcomb, up here — 
would n’t tell him a bit more ’n he ’d told me. 
Holcomb just laughed at him; he thought the 
old man w^'as sort o’ crazy, but I never saw any 
signs o’ that in him, unless this I tell you was it, 
an’ I did n’t think that at all.” 

‘‘Did n’t he say a word that would help you 
guess what it was?” Mrs. Wilson asked. 

“I ’ve made it as plain to you as he did to 
me, mum; an’ you can see there ain’t much to 
guess on in it.” 

“No,” mused Mr. Wilson, “there ’s no hints, 
only that it is something of considerable value.” 

“And hard to get,” added Winnie, quickly. 

“Just what I was going to say,” nodded 
Thursday. “It ’s of great value ; hard to get, as 
it takes money to get it — now what can we make 
of that?” 

Mr. Wilson shook his head. “Have to give 
up the good farming theory. He could n’t ask 
a man with so much bigger and better a farm 
to put up money on that proposition. And Uncle 
256 


A CREDIT TO HIS ANCESTORS 


Josh wasn’t crazy at all on anything that I 
ever heard him talk of. It ’s possible, though, 
that he had a delusion about treasure. Many 
folks do.” 

That was possible, of course, but none of the 
young folks wanted to or would accept that view ; 
Winnie in particular found it very disapix>inting, 
and besides, there was the “clue.” 

“Did n’t you ever imagine anything that it 
might be, Mr. Perkins?” she asked, wistfully. 


17 


257 


CHAPTER XXII 

ON THE TRAIL OF THE TREASURE 


Mr. Perkins reddened and fidgeted, saying, with 
a laugh : ‘‘O yes, I ’ve ’magined everything I 

could think of. I do n’t mind sayin’ I Ve been 
considerable curious whether he could ’ve knowed 
of anythin; an’ there ain’t but one thing I can 
roust up, goin’ clear back over the early times 
of this part the country, that shows any reason- 
able chance o’ being it.” 

They waited, almost breathlessly, for the ^‘one 
thing.” Mr. Perkins appeared to be reluctant 
to disclose it ; he looked somewhat ashamed as he 
said to Mr. Wilson : 

^‘You ’ll laugh at me, likely, for an’ old silly, 
believin’ in such tales; but I ain’t the only one. 
by a long shot, though they ’ve mostly died out 
now. When I was a youngster the old folks 
was tellin’ ’em, an’ believin’, too, an’ what ’s 
more, was a-huntin’ for the robbers’ hoards — ” 

‘‘Robbers’ hoards!” burst from the big boys 
and Winnie in a breath. The small boys vented 
their delicious excitement in whoops and squeals, 
258 


ON THE TRAIL OF THE TREASURE 


and all crowded closer to Mr. Perkins, as he con- 
tinued : 

‘AVhen the whole country was new and mostly 
unsettled, and the folks traveled in stages an’ a 
horseback, an’ carried their money an’ valuables 
with them, banks bein’ scurce, there was lots of 
highwaymanin’ an’ robbin’ by gangs that laid 
claim to certain tracts as their stompin’ ground, 
like the big Murrell gang all along the Missouri 
borders; you ricollect readin’ about it in tales of 
the frontiers ?” — Mr. Wilson nodded. ^‘They said 
there was a gang used to run these borders ; the 
old stage road ’twixt the important places an’ 
the Capital went through these regions — ^all wild 
then, an’ hilly, an’ it made good pickin’s for the 
robbers, for the richest folks traveled the stage 
road, in the stage, an’ other ways. And they 
used to tell that the robbers had particular hidin’ 
places in these broken, rough hills about here, 
and along the river bluffs; an’ when the gang 
was run down at last an’ destroyed, there was 
lots of money an’ stuff left in the hidin’ places 
that nobody ’s ever found — or not much of it.” 

“Gee!” “Whoopee!” exploded Friday and 
Saturday; Henry J. merely stood on his head 
for an instant, then yelled, “Caves! maybe — ” 

Winnie’s hand cut off the rest, as Mr. Per- 
259 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


kins ncKlded in smiling importance, and continued 
with a statement that he knew would raise a 
breeze : 

“An" they used to say that there was sup- 
posed to be one of them hidin’ caves in the sheer 
side of the face of the ridge back there, away 
up to’ards the top, where the rock made a sort 
o’ shelf an’ the upper part hung over it — under 
there was a openin’ to the cave, and it was mighty 
hard to get at. I never saw anybody that had 
seen so much as the openin’ that led into it, 
but there was folks that knew the cave had been 
there once; an’ it was said that when the robber 
gang was bein’ hunted down, an’ they knew 
they was goin’ to be scattered, that they blowed 
off the point of rock that used to be there an’ 
it fell on. the ledge or shelf an’ hid the cave 
openin’ ; they was meanin’ to keep their treasure 
safe till they could steal back an’ git it. But 
there was n’t none of them left to come back, 
an’ if it was ever there, it ’s there yet. You ’d 
think somebody ’d hunted for it, an’ they have 
been lookin’ always, in the bluffs on the river, 
an’ once some folks did find one of the hoards, 
some thousand of dollars, an’ old-fashioned 
watches an’ such. That was way up the river, 
where the bluffs are rockier an’ higher. They 
260 


ON THE TRAIL OF THE TREASURE 


ain’t any one livin’, that I know of, can say sure 
about there bein’ a robbers’ cave back in the cliff 
here, but they used to tell it as I said; an’ I 
kind o’ ’magined that old man Barton might ’ve 
found a clue, or somethin’ or other, that let him 
know about it. You know it was said the robbers 
an’ pirates always buried directions so ’s any 
of them could find the hoards of treasure — an’ 
I kind o’ thought he might ’ve run across some- 
thin’ o’ that sort. I never thought of them high- 
wayman stories till the old feller ’d gone to 
you folks, or mebbe I would n’t a been so brash 
with him. When I did think of them it seemed 
reasonable that was what he meant, for he used 
to potter about the ridge, or set up there like 
he was studyin’ somethin’, or be wanderin’ ’round 
below lookin’ up at the cliff. He could walk up 
the ridge from the field side, but he was n’t ever 
able to try to climb down the face o’ the cliff; 
I dunno as anybody could do that, ’less it was 
a sailor man ; it ’s a tough place, an’ a tough 
lot o’ rocks to fall on down below. I ’ve been 
'round there a considerable, an’ I never see any 
signs o’ anything, but he might ’ve had a clue 
o’ some sort. An’ that ’s all I know or ’magine 
alx)ut it,” he smiled at his eager, interested listen- 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

Mr. Wilson hesitated an instant, then handed 
the bit of paper to Mr. Perkins, saying, “The 
young folks here believe he left this as a clue to 
the treasure he hinted at.” 

Mr. Perkins asked all about its discovery, and 
examined it attentively, then he looked up with 
a rueful smile, remarking, “If old man Barton 
was here I would n’t mind telling him that I ’m 
sorry right now that I didn’t go in with him, 
though it might take a power o’ money.” 

“O! O!” Winnie shrieked, amid an uproar 
of exclamations : “You do think there ’s a great 
treasure here somewhere! O, if we can only 
find it! — we must! we must!” 

Even Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were excited and 
impressed with the possibility of the existence at 
Ma’s Legacy of wealth enough to put hard times 
behind them forever. 

Mr. Perkins was still poring over the clue, 
and now suggested ; “Could n’t this splotch mean 
a big, roundish stone on top the ridge that must 
be pried up, an’ mebbe under it is another clue — ” 

The boys hurrahed over this happy thought, 
and somewhat startled Mr. Perkins by slapping 
him on the back in the exuberance of their ad- 
miration for his intuitive ability. 

“That’s it! that’s it!” Thursday cried. 

262 


ON THE TRAIL OF THE TREASURE 


“We ’ll try every one of them !’’ Monday de- 
clared. “Now! now!” yelled the smaller boys 
in chorus, eager to fly to the ridge, but fearing 
they might miss something of the fascinating 
highwayman tales. 

“I s’pose you would n’t want me to go in, 
would you, Wilson? — I can let — ” 

“There are n’t any shareholders,” Monday in- 
terrupted Mr. Perkins quickly; “we ’re just hunt- 
ing treasure for the fun in it!” 

“And everything belongs to Ma’s Legacy,” 
Wednesday added. 

“It ’s the swoop of the Week on a rip-roaring, 
good old time ! — ‘the good old summer time,’ ” 
chanted Tuesday. 

“And we ’ll find the cave and the treasure, 
if we have to blow the whole cliff to bits,” Thurs- 
day declared. 

“It ’ll take a right smart lot of money to do 
that,” Mr. Perkins remarked a little stiffly; “look 
out you do n’t blow yourselves to bits, too. Come 
on, Alexander, we ’ll be in the dark, first we know. 
O, I reckon I did n’t tell you them fellers are 
gone. I paid ’em off an’ something to boot to 
get shut of ’em, an’ Lewis hauled ’em to the 
station, bag an’ baggage.” 

“Why, Mr. Perkins, I hope you did n’t do 
263 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


that on account of their fooling with me !” Thurs- 
day said. ‘‘There would n’t be any bother now.” 

“No, I reckon not, now we Ve reformed; but 
Alexander was gettin’ edicated the wrong way, 
all them bandit signs an’ such, things I ’d ruther 
he did n’t know so much about, that ’s all. I 
reckon you fellers won’t mind my lookin’ on when 
you bust into the robbers’ hidin’ place.” 

“Come on and help; the more, the merrier,” 
Monday said. 

“And O, Mr. Perkins! it was so kind of you 
to tell us about the robbers and the cave and all 1” 
Winnie caught his hand and laid her cheek caressr- 
ingly upon it in thanks. Mr. Perkins looked at 
his knotty hand in some embarrassment, as if he 
half expected to find it painted with the pink of 
her fresh, young cheek, mumbling: 

“Not at all, sissy, not at all. An’ I hope 
you ’ll find everything you ’xpect, an’ more.” 

“It really seems you ought to have a share, 
or something, for putting us on the track,” Mrs. 
Wilson said. 

“O no, mum, I did n’t mean anything like 
sharin’ when I spoke about goin’ in ; I just meant 
to loan the money, not to make on it.” 

“Well, that ’s fine of you, Perkins,” Mr. Wil- 
son declared, “and we ’re thankful to you for the 
264 


ON THE TRAIL OF THE TREASURE 


of¥er; but we gave over Ma’s Legacy to the 
Week of Boys, and they Te running it now. 
When they give it up, you may take the treasure 
hunting on shares, and glad to have you. I wish 
you ’d come over every day and keep an eye on 
them that they do n’t blow them'selves to bits, 
as you said. They ’re a rattled headed lot,” Mr. 
Wilson twinkled. 

‘‘Set him to watching us!” Thursday cried. 
“Why, he ’d be the rattiest-headed boy among 
us!” Mr. Perkins grinned as if he had been 
complimented. “But you ’d better come and help 
us, Mr. Perkins,” Thursday went on ; “it ’s the 
only chance you ’ll have at it, for we ’re not going 
to give it up till we find the treasure. 

Winnie skipped for joy at this declaration. 

“Come over to dinner to-morrow, you and 
Alexander,” Mrs. Wilson invited, heartily. 

“Thanky, mum, for the invite; but I ain’t 
sure we ’d either of us know how to act. I ain’t 
eat away from home since I went for Alexander, 
and he ain’t e\^er et anywheres else that I know 
of.” 

“I ’d risk it,” she laughed; “if you won’t come 
this time, you must soon ; there ’s nothing fine 
at our table.” 

Mr. Perkins said, “Thanky, mum,” again and 
265 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


started away. Alexander hung back; he had a 
little business of his own he had been screwing 
up courage to mention, and he blurted out hastily 
to the boys: 

‘'Say, what ’s them round things with handles 
you fellers tinkle on?’’ 

Friday rolled over and over, screeching, “It 
is to laugh!” 

“Look here, Alecky,” Tuesday said, “do n’t 
you mind him. He has to bust out that way 
once in a while, or bust himself.” 

“I don’t care. I like the things he says,” 
Alexander grinned at Friday shyly and admir- 
ingly. “I called them fellers bandits, too — I 
heard him do it ; an’ I know what skidoo 1 means ; 
I got Nep so ’s he ’ll run when I tell him to 
skidoo !” 

“Your dog? Well, if you aren’t a smart 
little tad!” Wednesday laughed, and turned to 
Mr. Perkins, “The round things must be our 
mandolins.” 

“I reckon so,” Mr. Perkins admitted doubt- 
fully. “He ’s rattled over somethin’ you fellers 
play on that looks to him like big dipper gourds ; 
he ’s got some he raised last year, an’ he ’s con- 
trived somethin’ out o’ one o’ them that he makes 
a considerable noise on.” 

266 


ON THE TRAIL OF THE TREASURE 

‘‘He shall have my — but mine is n’t round,” 
Thursday interrupted himself to exclaim. ‘T ’ll 
send and get him one right away; you must let 
me,” he urged, as Mr. Perkins shook his head; 
‘T owe a lot to Alexander for trying so hard 
to pat things down for me — do n’t you think so, 
Mr. Wilson?” 

'T certainly do, and you mustn’t object, Per- 
kins.” 

‘‘Well, then,” Mr. Perkins assented, “I reckon 
you ’d better tell him what to call it.” 

“Mandolin, kiddie. M-a-n-d-o-l-i-n, mando- 
lin.” 

Alexander repeated the whole carefully after 
Thursday, and went away murmuring it to him- 
self, his freckled face shining. 


267 


CHAPTER XXIII 


WHERE ’S MY OLD FIDDLE! 
SHE’LL SAY IT!” 

They had planned a great time for the evening: 
music, feasting, and play-acting; but after Mr. 
Perkins’s astonishing disclosures, they could think 
or talk of little else but the prospect of the speedy 
discovery of the treasure. 

Although it was quite dusk, they all swarmed 
to the ridge to take a look at the stronghold in 
w'hich the robbers had hidden their hoard. 

The smaller boys ran about, attempting to 
turn over every flattened stone they could find 
in the waning light; the others peered over the 
edge of the cliff, down the jagged side that held 
the entrance to the robbers’ cave hidden some- 
where in its large surface. 

Thursday, upon close inspection, was im- 
pressed with the largeness of the job of “blowing 
it up.” 

“Have to have dynamite, I expect, and plenty 
of it; and it can’t be done in a hurry, either. 

268 


^‘WHERE^S MY OLD FIDDLE!” 


We ’ll have to stay here all summer, boys,” he 
asserted. 

‘‘Which all of us can’t do,” Monday lamented. 

“Unless we get jobs of the farmers as the 
kids have planned to do. But maybe the treas- 
ure ’ll be found before it ’s going-home time,” 
Wednesday said. 

“We ’ll work for Mr. Perkins in the place of 
the bandits,” Tuesday announced. 

“But who ’s to help me ? — it ’ll take all of 
us! Got to have you — might as well hire out 
to me as any one else. I ’d rather have you 
than anybody I could hire,” he put on a ridicu- 
lous air of “the boss,” Friday said. But they 
all approved the arrangement, and all instantly 
and joyfully hired out to Thursday for the sum.- 
mer, subject to the home powers, of course. 

They had to attend to the horses, and Tues- 
day, who said he always played the milk bucket 
symphony at home, took the pails from* Mrs. 
Wilson and did the milking, quoting poetry to 
the cows about the “foamy nectar,” and squirt- 
ing milk into the faces of Friday and Saturday, 
who wanted to try the art of milking. 

It was going to take considerable resolution 
to keep on with the work instead of rushing 
straight away to the attack of the ridge; but 
269 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


they all agreed — the big boys, that is — that the 
work must be finished, even if the finding of the 
treasure would make the crops of little conse- 
quence, for it was possible the treasure would 
not be found. 

They were so nearly done that the forenoons 
would be enough to give to the work; and the 
afternoons would be better anyway for their 
search for the cave, as the sun on the face of 
the cliff would help reveal any dark opening, 
however small, that led inside. 

They were up with gray dawn, and sunrise 
found them hustling things, part in the field and 
part at the fence, for the cows had to be shut 
out of the orchard for the safety of their camp. 

Thursday grew restless as the morning ad- 
vanced, and left the smaller boys, who had all 
been working with him on the fence, and joined 
the big boys, confiscating a hoe; but he stopped 
often, looking away towards the dim road that 
came down to Ma’s Legacy from the main road. 

‘‘Must be looking for some one,’' Monday 
suggested to him, as he stood staring intently. 

‘T am. It 's plenty time, and — no, yes ! 
Yonder he comes! Come on, boys!” He ran 
across the field to the gate as a rig from the little 
station approached. The boys hesitated, looking 
270 


^‘WHERE’S MY OLD FIDDLE!" 


on while a gray-haired gentleman of distinguished 
appearance alighted, with a couple of suggestive 
cases, which Thursday helped him to carry into 
the house. 

‘‘O, good old Thursday !" Monday exclaimed. 
'‘Know who that is, boys?’’ 

They did not, but it was easy to guess he 
was a city physician, and they were not much 
surprised when Monday named an eminent sur- 
geon. 

“They ’ll know now, sure, whether Mr. Wil- 
son will have to lose his leg or not, and he ’ll 
have the best possible treatment, anyhow. Thurs- 
day said for us to ‘come on,’ but he was excited ; 
it would n’t do for us to crowd in.’’ 

“That’s so; we’d better keep on with the 
work,” Wednesday returned. 

Monday called the smaller boys to come to 
them, and bring Sunday, and told them all to 
keep quiet while the doctor was with Mr. Wilson. 

Thursday went and talked a while to the 
driver, and when he came back he told the boys 
that he had sent up to the store for a couple of 
hundred feet of rope, and all the giant powder 
they had — ^both to be brought out as soon as 
possible, so they could have them for the after- 
noon. 


271 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“I did n’t know we were going to need such 
things when I was up yesterday, and we may 
not find any rope around here long enough and 
strong enough for swinging down the cliff.” 

“But what about Mr. — ” 

“Don’t ask me,” Thursday winced. “I got 
a glimpse of it as I camie past : the sight sickened 
me; it ’s an awful looking place! The doctor has 
Mr. Wilson on the couch, out on the porch, for 
the best light, I suppose; he seemed to be using 
the knife; they have stuff to spray on so it’s 
scarcely felt — I saw it used on one of the college 
fellows once. Ma Wilson was holding pa’s hand 
and wetting his face — she was whiter than you ’d 
think she could ever get, but she was standing by, 
stanchly, to see him through it. Winnie was 
on the ground back of the house, -with the little 
girl piled in her lap, and their faces hidden. 
We ’ll have to wait.” 

They worked away hurriedly, in a tension that 
tried their nerves, for something over an hour, 
that seemed to them endless. Sunday grew tired 
and wanted to go to the house, and Monday 
sent him and all the smaller boys up to the ridge 
to hunt flat stones, with cautions against going 
near the cliff or they would have to come straight 
back. At last the surgeon climbed into the buggy, 
272 


^‘WHERE^S MY OLD FIDDLE T 


and with a wave of the hand in good-bye to 
Thursday, went away. 

Ve known him all my life,’’ Thursday burst 
out with a long breath ; ‘T wired to him yesterday 
all I heard you boys say about Mr. Wilson’s leg, 
as nearly as I could, and he brought everything, 
even to take it off, if that was necessary; but I 
hope that won’t have to be done.” 

Mrs. Wilson came out of the back door just 
then, calling shakily: 

‘^Come in, all of you. Pa wants to see you.” 

Winnie, apparently just a bunch of hysterical 
exultation, was on her knees by pa’s couch, with 
Ma Wilson on the other side, the tears running 
down her cheeks : ‘Tt ’ll get well, boys ! it ’ll get 
well !” she quavered ; ^‘pa won’t have to go stump- 
ing around on one leg ! — it ’ll get well ! — ” 
— And in only a month or so — just a little four 
weeks, he ’ll be walking on his own two feet !” 
Winnie interrupted. ‘Tn just a little while, O 
pa, dear! pa, dear!” 

‘Tn a month or so, pa, dear !” Ma Wilson took 
up the rejoicing. '‘O pa, dear, in only a month 
or so ! — and on your own two legs ! — I wish that 
old sawbones was here! — I just wish he was here 
so I could tell him!” 

‘‘O, is n’t money a grand thing !” Winnie cried, 

273 


18 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


fervently, “when it ’ll do such wonders for poor, 
sick folks that can’t help themselves!’’ 

Pa was a little whiter than usual, but was 
laughing gayly, his old, brave spirit shining in 
his sunken eyes, yet now with tears of joy; he 
was patting and kissing his two equally brave 
helpers. 

“It’s oetter a’ready, boys,’’ he beamed. “I 
can’t remember when it ’s been so easy. He 
sprayed it good, and cut out all the old ulcers — 
I told him to take it all, only save me the bone 
to stand on — ” 

“And he said pa was most all bone now, which 
he is, poor dear !’’ ma broke in, with a fresh gush 
of tears. 

“But it ’s going to' get well, boys !’’ pa exulted 
on; “get clear well! Think of that! — of being 
let loose, all well again, after months and months 
— and he said I would likely never have got 
through the hot weather with it, and then, these 
would have been left — ’’ he threw out his hand 
and choked an instant, but went only quickly: 
“O, you boys, you ! — all of you ! — who came to 
us when our need was greater than you could 
know or understand — we cant’ tell you! there 
is n’t words for it ! — Where ’s my old fiddle, ma ! 
—she ’ll say it !’’ 


274 


WHERE’S MY OLD FIDDLE!” 


pa, you ought n't to 1” Winnie sobbed. 

‘‘I Ve got to, honey, or burst something !" 

The boys had been startled and awed, but 
now they broke out roaring, ‘‘So have we! So 
have we!” and let loose the emotion that shook 
them, hurrahing with the violin, that seemed to 
actually shout a glorious thankfulness and joy. 
The smaller boys came running, and all of them 
helped Henry J. express his feelings in various 
antics and whoops. 

“It 'd never have happened in tnis world if 
it had n't been for the glorious old swoop of 
the Week on Ma's Legacy!” called Pa Wilson 
through the tempest. This was the signal for 
the other big boys to snatch up Thursday and 
prance about the yard, yelling, “It was his swoop ! 
— Hail to the Chief ! — hail to the big old 
Swooper !” 

“Hail to the sneak! you mean,” Thursday 
struggled free, looking much plagued. “It might 
have been most well by this time — ” 

“Stop it!” Ma Wilson interrupted him. 
“You 've done it, and that 's enough ! — ” “And 
O! I wish we knew how to thank him!” Winnie 
bubbled. 

“I won't be thanked!” Thursday snorted; “I 
have n't done anything compared to the boys 
275 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


here. They Ve given themselves — and any one 
of them ’d have done this the first thing if they ’d 
happened to have the measly money — and any of 
you would do it, and more, for any of us. I 
won’t be thanked ! — I owe Ma Wilson more than 
I can ever pay, for — for coming over there when 
I needed some one so — and — ” he broke down 
at the memory. Ma ran and hugged him. 

‘‘Nobody owes anybody anything ! — and 
we ’re all jolly good fellows ! — Here ’s to us all ! 
everybody, big and little — the Wilsons and the 
Week — Plip, hip! Hurrah! Hurrah!” Tuesday 
flourished his hat and lifted his voice in a cheer 
that swelled to a good-sized campaign roar as 
everybody immediately joined in. 

“What is it — have you found the robbers’ 
cave?” Mr. Perkins came up, puffing. 

“More ! — and better !” Winnie cried. Ma 
hastily explained, pa lying back on his pillows, 
smiling happily and fingering the strings of his 
faithful old fiddle. 

“Well, that is good news!” Mr. Perkins said, 
but he looked disappointed, and added slowly: 
“But I ’m left agin. I ain’t used to takin’ much 
int’rest in my neighbors, an’ I never thought of 
it till a bit ago, an’ I come right over then, Wilson, 
to offer you the money to git a good doctor, or 
276 


‘^WHERE^S MY OLD FIDDLE T’ 


to go away to one — ^l3Ut I ’m too late;’' he seemed 
to take the failure of his good intentions, for the 
second time, quite to heart. 

^Why, that was kind of you, neighbor Per- 
kins; just as kind as if you’d been in time,” 
Mr. Wilson held out his hand; ‘‘I feel as if you 
had helped ; it ’s what one means to do that 
counts.” 

‘‘It is so,” Mrs. Wilson declared, “and you ’ve 
showed yourself a good-hearted neighbor, Mr. 
Perkins; we’re just as thankful.” 

“It ’s what I ’m goin’ to try to be, mum,” 
Mr. Perkins replied, awkwardly ; “I see ’t ain’t 
the best way, livin’ all for yourself.” 

“That ’s a great truth, neighbor,” Mr. Wilson 
replied. “ ‘No man liveth unto himself,’ you re- 
member ; and when he tries to, he ’s apt to not 
more than half live. We must help and be helped 
as we jog along life’s road.” 

“And now you and Alexander are here, 
you ’ve got to stay to dinner. We must feast 
and make merry to celebrate,” Mr. Wilson de- 
clared, adding, “Every one of you boys, too, of 
course.” 

“We ’ll bring up our grub and have another 
grand old picnic,” they said. 

‘Let ’s get it ready early so we ’ll have lots 
277 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


of time to talk,” Winnie fluttered. “Pa ’ll want 
to tell all the doctor said, and we all want to 
hear every bit of it.” 

“He ’s coming next week again, too,” Mrs. 
Wilson announced, joyfully, just remembering 
that this had not been told. 

“He’s coming as long as it’s necessary,” 
Thursday put in; “the Week’ll see to that.” 
They were starting to camp, when Mr. Perkins 
asked ; 

“Is there anything agin’ our knowin’ the real 
names of you fellers ? I ’ve been considerable 
cur’ous about it.” 

“Nothing but the fines for using them,” Mon- 
day laughed, looking at the other boys. 

“Put up a flag of truce, and introduce your- 
selves,” Winnie proposed. 

“That ’s it !” Thursday tied his handker- 
chief to a stick, and handed it to Monday, say- 
ing: “Truce declared. Fine off. Go on, old 
man.” 

Monday gravely lined up the Week and in- 
troduced them, explaining their several leading 
characteristics as he proceeded, each boy and all 
the spectators bowing as gravely at mention of the 
names. 

“Our first and most important day,” Monday 
278 


^‘WHERE’S MY OLD FIDDLE r 


began, ‘‘is, of course, Sunday, the good leaven 
of the Week — he is Danny Jewell Westover. 
.Next, Monday, solid old slow coach — Harvey P. 
Westover. Then Tuesday, Prince of peaceful 
Poets — Claude M. Sumner. After him, of course, 
is Wednesday, all round tip-top good fellow — 
William G. Hastings. Next, also of course, comes 
Thursday, musical genius, warm-hearted leader 
of men^ — Stephen F. Rayburn. After him, Fri- 
day, regular Bill Nye humorist, square man, but 
a little peppery — Joseph L. Sumner. And last 
comes Saturday, our fearless fighter, embryo 
U. S. General — Thomas H. Hastings.’' 

“And here we are, with the lid off,” Tuesday 
added. They shook hands all around with at- 
tempts to place the names correctly, making some 
mistakes and laughing over them. 

“You seem like strangers by your real names,” 
Winnie told them,. 

“Your weekday names is a lot the best, any- 
how,” Henry J. asserted. 

“I feel the most like I was Sunday,” Danny 
piped. 

“And you look it, too, honey,” Ma Wilson 
smiled. 

“I wisht there was a day name for me,” Alex- 
ander put in shyly. 

279 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“Be your birthday month, I am. I ’m Janu- 
ary,” Henry J. announced. 

“You bet he is, our ‘Whoa, January !’ ” Friday 
whooped. 

“Then I ’m October,” Alexander said. 

“Octo ! That ’s good enough,” Thursday told 
him, filling him with pride at being received as 
one of them, and giving him courage to set up 
the “swoop” with Henry J., both of them in- 
serting their new names regardless of meter or 
tune. 

The dinner being a picnic, Mr. Perkins ap- 
parently forgot his anxiety concerning the table 
manners of himself and Alexander, and enjoyed 
it with the best of them, adding to the merri- 
ment by his quaint speeches, that caused Mr. 
Wilson to openly congratulate himself upon hav- 
ing so entertaining a neighbor. 

“Me an’ Alexander ’s goin’ to give a picnic 
when you can come, Wilson,” Mr. Perkins de- 
clared at the finish, “after his mother ’s here, 
an’ we ’re goin’ to have the whole neighborhood, 
so ’s to git acquainted.” 


280 


CHAPTER XXIV 

THE SEARCH FOR THE CAVE 

Thursday had sent a written ‘‘hurry-up'’ order 
for the rope, and a boy on horseback arrived 
with it soon after one o'clock, with the informa- 
tion that there was no giant powder in the village, 
and little of any kind ; but they had sent all they 
had. 

Thursday was disappointed, but gave the boy 
such a generous “tip" for himself, in addition to 
the bill for the rope, that he went away grinning 
with delight. 

Mrs. Wilson was nervous over the project, 
and charged the smaller boys again and again 
to keep back from the high place, and hunt flat 
stones, or she would make Henry J. stay at the 
house. She coaxed up Sunday till he readily 
agreed to play about the yard with Nell; and 
she exacted a promise from Winnie that she 
would n't go down on the rope — which there was 
little likelihood of Winnie having a chance to do 
with four big boys eager for it themselves; but 
she could have done it! Winnie was sure of 
that, and would have liked to try it, too. 

281 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


The boys tied one end of the rope securely 
around a sturdy young oak, to insure against 
an accident in case the ones holding it should let 
it slip in a sudden excitement. 

When all was ready, they stood looking at 
each other hesitatingly, every fellow longing to 
be first, but none venturing to claim that privilege. 

^‘Eet ’s take it by our ages, the oldest first,’' 
Tuesday proposed presently. 

^‘No sir ! it ’s my — ” Thursday exploded, but 
broke off and ran with all his might down the 
long slope ; all the smaller boys trailing after him, 
frantic to see what he had found, or what he 
expected to find. At the bottom,, Thursday turned 
and ran back, without noticing them at all; he 
was red and panting when he reached the three 
others waiting him in some surprise at his sudden 
flight. 

‘‘There, boys !” he said, smiling, ‘T guess I ’ve 
got the better of the Sneak now ! I ’ve been so 
used to hogging things with both hands that I 
can’t seem to quit it all at once. Like Mr. Per- 
kins, I want you to help me with a boost when 
I get to rampagin’ off the reform track. Come 
on, Monday; age is the only fair way.” 

So Monday was let swinging down the face 
of the wall of rock, soon reaching the rough, 
282 


THE SEARCH FOR THE CAVE 


broken surface, where he could scramble along, 
held by the rope, and search for an opening. Out 
in the bottom below Winnie keenly scanned the 
cliff, directing him to dark spots which she felt 
sure must be the opening that led to the cave, 
but which always proved to be but crevices in the 
rock. From some of these Monday disturbed 
colonies of protesting swallows, and once several 
bats darted out of a hole back in, at which Thurs- 
day declared that the cave must be in there, the 
hole leading to it, for bats were always found in 
dark caves. Although this statement encouraged 
them exceedingly, the hole proved to end entirely 
a few feet in, as showed by a lighted match 
thrown into it. 

When Monday had put in his allotted time, 
he was drawn up, having discovered nothing but 
the swallows and bats, and Wednesday went 
down; he was three days older than Tuesday, 
but being more abrupt and angular, had not con- 
sidered himself as fit a representative of the day 
Tuesday as Claud, but he was keen enough now 
to claim his few days’ advantage, although he 
was not more successful in his search than Mon- 
day. The great cliff bulged outwards more and 
more towards the middle, with small ledges strewn 
with broken pieces of rock, which bore out the 
283 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


story of the robbers having blown off the top. 
In this broken mass each hunter searched his 
space with intense eagerness, expecting every in- 
stant to come upon the mouth of the cave. 

However, although by this time they were 
nearing the middle, nothing had been found when 
it came Tuesday’s second turn. But he very 
soon called out that there was a real opening, 
not a mere crevice, behind a heaped up mass upon 
a narrow ledge. 

‘Tt looks deep and dark ! It must be the cave ! 
— the cave!” he shouted, excitedly. 

“The cave! the cave!” the boys above yelled 
wildly, flinging themselves flat with heads over 
the brink, all yelling for a description of it, none 
waiting for an answer. 

Away below Winnie ran shrieking: “The 
cave! the cave! It is found! it is found!” 

She shrieked in another key and to a different 
tune when, happening to glance above, she saw 
all four of the smaller boys, a little to one side, 
apparently hanging by their toes over the preci- 
pice in their eagerness to see. At her cry the 
others sprang up and yanked them back, kicking 
and protesting. 

“I could climb down there easy, I know I 
could, without your old rope!” Henry J. declared. 

284 


THE SEARCH FOR THE CAVE 


all could,” Friday asserted, ‘‘and I think 
we might try it, too.” 

But when, instead of being allowed to try it, 
even with the rope, they were threatened with 
banishment to the house if they did not keep 
back, they sulkily joined Winnie in the bottom, 
where they said they could “see something be- 
sides the string of big fellers on their stomachs.” 

Tuesday dislodged a good deal of rock, that 
went crashing down, but that was only the loose 
pieces on the ledge and did not enlarge the open- 
ing. Every fellow felt that he could do better, 
and when Tuesday, somewhat tired, his hair 
plastered to his head with the heat and exertion, 
proposed to let Thursday try it, they all assented 
gladly. If the cave had been found, as it seemed, 
and as they were all quite sure of, the thing now 
was to get the rock cleared away from the mouth 
so it could be entered. It would take blasting 
to do that, and Thursday, who had traveled about 
with his uncle a good deal, had stayed some weeks 
once at a mining town and seen a little of blast- 
ing, so they felt he was the one to judge the 
conditions. 

When he saw- it, he was entirely certain that 
the hole was the mouth of the cave, almost en- 
tirely blocked up with the rock which the robbers 
285 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

had blown down from the top, locking in their 
treasure. 

‘‘But we’ll beat them! we’ll beat them!” he 
yelled up. “We ’ll clear out their old blockade 
and get at their treasure !” 

He toiled and sweated, but made little im- 
pression; a sharp comer of solid rock, part of 
the cliff, jutted into the cavity, which slanted 
downward so steeply that a lighted match thrown 
into it disappeared without revealing anything ex- 
cept that it must be deep. Each of the big boys 
made manful efforts to enlarge the opening, and 
each reluctantly gave it up. 

Mr. Perkins, who had watched proceedings 
from his hill, came across at the first cry of dis- 
covery, and recounted tales of the greatness of 
the robbers’ hidden hoards, and speculated upon 
the immense wealth they would probably find in 
the cave, almost as excited as the boys and Win- 
nie, and fully as impatient to get at it. 

Winnie posted to the house with the news, 
and returned with Thursday’s powder horn, 
which Friday had been sent to the tent to bring, 
but which Mrs. Wilson had thought was too 
dangerous an article for him to handle; she sent 
renewed cautions about “blowing themselves up 
with it.” 


286 


THE SEARCH FOR THE CAVE 


There was not much powder for the purpose, 
but the boys hoped it would loosen the fallen 
rock about the opening enough so they could pry 
them away and get in. Thursday, because he 
knew the most about it, prepared the charge and 
tamped it firmly beneath the rocks at the opening, 
and placed the fuse, made of twisted paper ; then, 
when Mr. Perkins, Winnie, and the small boys 
were out in the bottom in safety, he applied the 
match, and was hastily drawn up, getting some 
rough bumping in the hurry. 

An instant later there was a dull boom, a little 
cloud of dust rolled up, a small shower of rock 
rattled down, a few larger bits rolled off, and it 
seemed all over. Thursday was immediately low- 
ered again, finding that the dislodged rocks had 
settled in such a way that it was choked up worse 
than ever. 

“Even a kitten could n’t get in now, let alone 
a cat, or a boy,” he said when he came up. “I 
do n’t believe anything will do any good but 
dynamite ; and I ’m going to send for enough of 
that to shatter the whole mass — tear it inside 
out !” 

With this declaration he gave up the “rope 
business,” he called it, to the others, and went 
below to examine the base of the ledge and the 
287 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


holes Henry J. had spoken of. Some of them 
extended, dark and crooked, for some yards un- 
derneath, and as he crawled about exploring them, 
Thursday decided to try heavy charges of dyna- 
mite in the far ends, as it might be possible to 
shatter the face of the cliff in that way, enough 
so they could get in to the cave without having 
to tunnel into the rock above. 

The other boys were still working up on the 
ledge, sending down occasional pieces of rock 
with warning shouts, which scarcely seemed 
necessary, as Thursday knew the danger as well 
as anybody. But he appeared to forget it, for, 
after prowling along the foot of the cliff, at 
times entirely hidden underneath, he suddenly 
came out directly beneath the workers and stood 
looking at his soiled hands, imaware of his posi- 
tion until startled by screams of terror from 
Winnie. Then he flung himself backwards just 
in time to escape a large rock that crashed down 
upon the very spot where he had been standing. 

The boys all echoed Winnie's cry, and Mon- 
day and Wednesday dashed down the slope and 
around at the bottom, so frightened at what they 
feared had happened that they could scarcely 
speak, even when they saw Thursday safe. 

‘T tell you, old fellow, when the rock started 
288 


THE SEARCH FOR THE CAVE 


and Winnie screamed so, I nearly went over the 
cliff!” Monday panted. 

^‘Me, too,” W ednesday said ; ‘T thought he 'd 
been smashed, sure!” 

Thursday looked at the rock and at them, as 
if hardly understanding; he seemed not to mind 
the danger, or not to entirely realize it, and sat 
down upon a rock, smiling a little and rubbing his 
dirty hands. 

‘‘Do n’t say anything to ma about it,” Winnie 
begged. “I was never so scared in my life! — 
he came out just as it toppled over — I expected ! — 
but it did n’t — and no one must say a word to ma, 
she ’d be so frightened ! — and she ’d never be 
willing for us to try any more to break into the 
cave.” 

“That ’s so,” Monday assented, and warned 
the smaller boys to keep still about it or they 
might have to give the whole thing up, for Ma 
Wilson was the owner of Ma’s Legacy; the 
boys were ready to promise anything to avert 
such a calamity as having to give up the cave 
now! 

“You just escaped by the skin of your teeth, 
I can tell you, young feller,” Mr. Perkins assured 
Thursday, solemnly. 

“If it had hit you, Steve, I ’d have thrown 
289 


10 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


myself down on it/’ a shaky voice called over 
their heads. 

‘‘Why, we forgot Tuesday!” Wednesday ex- 
claimed. 

“And we threw that rope in such a hurry 
it might have dragged him over and hurt him 
badly, it ’s so heavy Monday looked up, startled 
to see the rope swaying in a heavy loop. Tues- 
day began pulling it up, as he replied: 

“Well, it did n’t. I would n’t have sent that 
rock — such a big one, too — down without yell- 
ing for everybody to stand from under first, 
Thursday; it went of itself, unexpected.” 

“We ’ll haul you up, and I guess we ’d better 
quit, and think of something else to try.” 

“O, I ’m here to stay;” Tuesday leaned over 
and grinned down at them: 

“ The boy stood on the dinky ledge, 

A peekin’ o’er the crinkly edge.” 

Not stopping for his nonsense, the boys had 
hurried up and were pulling at the rope. “Let 
loose, why don’t you?” Wednesday called 
sharply. 

“I ’m a letting loose all I can;* it ’s the rocks, 
the lovin’ fellers, that are hanging on to me. 
Thursday, old man, when I vowed I ’d come 
290 


THE search for THE CAVE 


down on top the rock if it had landed on you, 
I meant it, not knowing I could n’t ; I was think- 
ing of you, not of myself, and did n’t know I was 
held in the grip of circumstance.” 

‘‘Quit your fooling, and say what you mean,” 
Thursday told him, rousing up suddenly. 

“I ’m saying what I mean, and meaning what 
I say,” Tuesday replied. “When that fellow went 
over, his two mates settled on my foot and — ” 

“O Claud, are you hurt?” Monday asked, 
lying down with his head over, trying to see. 
The times were too serious for any one to think 
of fines; even the smaller boys had omitted to 
demand it when Tuesday had called Thursday’s 
name, as they omitted it now. 

‘T do n’t think it ’s much hurt, but I ’m sort 
of twisted and can’t get a purchase on my jailers ; 
some one ’ll have to come down and pry me loose, 
or it ’s me for this lofty perch the rest of my 
natural.” 

He went on to describe the methods by which 
they should feed and water him, and put up a 
shelter tent for him in case they found him fast 
for good, and said he felt cheated when Monday 
succeeded in paying him out, and they pulled him 
up at last. 

“Anyway, the highwaymen knew what they 


291 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


were about when they put their wealth into this 
old stone bank,” he went on, as he sat rubbing 
his foot, which was only a little bruised. “No 
wonder old Mr. Barton did n’t undertake to rob 
it by himself.” 

“It ’s a tough old bank to rob, sure,” Wednes- 
day said ; “I ’m half afraid we ’ll never do it.” 

“Say!” Tuesday straightened, wide-eyed; 
“say, why can’t that spot on the clue mean a 
flat stone that covers another opening! — not just 
another clue ? Maybe it ’s concealed under the 
stone, with dirt and gravel, and we ’ll have to 
dig for it — ‘dig deep,’ you know it says. We ’ll 
try all the flat and round stones and see how it 
looks under them.” 

“That seems reasonable, and we ’ll do it. 
There must ’ve been some other way of getting 
into the cave,” Monday said. 

The smaller boys whooped, and all ran away 
to begin on flat stones, with renewed hope and 
energy. 

“Yes, that seems reasonable, for a fact,” 
Wednesday said, after considering it a bit. Mr. 
Perkins not only agreed with them that it was 
reasonable, but said that looked to be the true 
solution of the clue. They all turned to Thurs- 
da)'-, and he admitted that there might be and 
292 


THE search for THE CAVE 


probably was another way into the cave, but that 
they ’d get into it by the way they had already 
found. 

reckon you ’ll get dinnamite enough to 
blow ’er sky high, then,” Mr. Perkins said. 

‘‘We ’ll get at the cave if we do have to blow 
’er sky high. The treasure ’s going to be found,” 
Thursday declared, and went off to prowl again 
below. The others, big and little, Mr. Perkins 
included, wandered over the ridge, prying and 
prodding at every stone that at all resembled the 
soiled spot on the bit of paper. 

They could find nothing of Thursday when 
they were ready to quit, but there was a note at 
the tent saying that he had gone to the village. 

After supper they went up to tell the folks at 
the house, and assure them of success if such a 
thing were possible, for Winnie had been much 
discouraged — that great, unyielding mountain of 
rock seemed so impregnable. 

“Thursday won’t give it up till everything ’s 
been tried and failed, you can be sure of that,” 
Wednesday declared. 

“I expect he ’s gone up to wire his uncle 
about dynamite,” Monday said. “It ’ll be a big 
undertaking — we’ve found that out to-day, and 
I suppose he ’ll have to get his uncle’s consent.” 

293 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


‘‘Mercy sakes ! I ’m afraid you ’ll all get 
Mowed up with it,” Ma Wilson cried; “I almost 
wish the cave ’d never been — ” 

“O no, ma !” Winnie broke in, horrified ; 
“don’t say you wish it had never been found. 
We’ll all be careful. O, I do hope Thursday ’ll 
stick to it ! — we can pay him out of the treasure.” 

“He ’ll stick to it, unless his uncle vetoes the 
scheme, and I do n’t think he will. Thursday 
usually has and does what he wants,” Wednes- 
day, who was most intimate with Thursday and 
his affairs, again assured them. 

Thursday returned late, and went to bed at 
once, saying nothing about his plans or whether 
he would be allowed to go on and break into the 
robbers’ bank, or be compelled to give it up. This 
seemed a bad sign to the rest, for he was naturally 
fond of talking over his schemes, and they feared 
that they might not be able to do any more at 
getting the treasure by blowing open the bank. 

Anyway, they could hunt for the stone that 
concealed the other opening or entrance to the 
cave, for by this time they were sure it existed, 
though why old Mr. Barton had not done this 
himself they did not stop to ask. 


294 


CHAPTER XXV 


WHAT THE SPOT ON THE CLUE 
MEANT 

The boys rushed the work next morning. Mr. 
Wilson was feeling a great deal better, and in 
fine spirits at the prospects of being a sound 
man again. He prophesied that he ’d be out there 
to help pick up the pieces when they Mowed the 
cliff to the four winds, and asserted that he ’d 
be the first one in the cave, with a hatchet for 
the strong box that Winnie talked of continually. 
The boys, all but Thursday, had stopped to see 
him a few moments as they went to work. 

Thursday was pleasant, but he acted a little 
offish, and took one of the horses and went to 
work alone, using a cultivator in the corn. He 
had said little to the boys all the moming, and 
not a word concerning his errand to the village 
the evening before; and the boys and Winnie 
began to think that he had been forbidden to use 
the dynamite. But they resolved, even if Thurs- 

295 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 

day g’ave it up (which would not be at all like 
him to do), that they would turn over every 
stone, though there were hundreds of them, which 
might hide the other opening to the cave; they 
all felt, especially Winnie and the smaller boys, 
that it would be impossible to give up the hunt 
for the treasure, whatever Thursday did. 

Thursday again kept a sharp watch on the 
road, and the boys told each other that he must 
have sent for the giant powder and was looking 
for it to come, which meant, of course, that they 
would try the blasting again in the afternoon ; 
and Thursday would get over his disappointment 
about the dynamite as soon as they got at the 
cliff. They were not surprised when he sud- 
denly left the horse and with a whoop set off 
at full speed; but they were astonished when a 
big touring car swept into view, containing sev- 
eral men ; and they stared at each other when 
Thursday got into it, and it swerved off towards 
the river bottom, without a word or sign from 
him to any of them. Mr. Wilson sent Winnie 
to ask the boys to come up to the house. 

“I ’m dreadfully curious,” he laughed to them ; 
“what does that load of men mean? Are they 
surveyors, do you think?” 

296 


WHAT THE SPOT ON CLUE MEANT 


“One of them is Thursday's uncle/’ Monday 
said ; “I expect he ’s come to see what Thursday ’s 
up to. The others may be surveyors — looks like 
it ; of course, he ’d want it settled about the lines 
of his property. I only hope he won’t stop Thurs- 
day using all the powder he wants to on the cliff, 
anyway.” 

“Thursday ’s uncle is as apt as not to stay 
and help do it,” Wednesday told them. “He 
may think dynamite too dangerous, but I 
would n’t be surprised if he helped with the pow- 
der; he likes a good time, and hunting treasure 
is the best ever.” 

“Unless you can’t get it,” Winnie said; she 
had her fears of ever possessing the treasure. 

“O, we ’ll get it some way. Maybe Thurs- 
day had those men come to blow up the cliff ; he 
was so vexed at our failure yesterday.” 

“My! but it looks dreadful dangerous for 
anybody, blowing up such a great hill of rock. 
Every one of you little boys have got to stay at 
the house with me while they ’re doing it,” Ma 
Wilson declared. 

“But we want to see!” they clamored in 
chorus. 

“We can go over and stay on Mr. Perkins’s 
297 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


hill, can't we?" Friday asked. None of them 
thought of resisting her authority. 

‘Well, maybe, if Mr. Perkins 'll be sure to 
keep you with him, and out of danger. I 'm 
glad it 's a long way from the house, else I 'd 
take pa and camp down by the river." 

“But I want to see, too," pa objected, laugh- 
ing; “it'll be a regular volcano." 

The arrival of the auto had changed things, 
and everybody now fully expected the clifif would 
be blown up. Of course, as Thursday would 
have to furnish the money to do it, it was mostly 
his affair; but the big boys felt it a good deal 
that he was leaving them out so. Even if he 
could not have asked them to go on the tour of 
inspection, he might have had them walk across 
the field and meet them on the ridge, and hear 
what the men said about blowing up the cliff. 
The auto had gone around below, and the men, 
with Thursday, were all on the ridge, apparently 
examining it. The boys kept their thoughts to 
themselves, but Winnie wondered at Thursday's 
not asking any of them to go. 

“Maybe Thursday's afraid his uncle would 
stop it all if he saw the whole gang of us ; might 
think some one was sure to be hurt among so 
many," Tuesday said, trying to excuse Thursday. 
298 


WHAT THE SPOT ON CLUE MEANT 


“He may stop it an3nvay, when he sees what 
a big job it is,” Monday suggested. “Thursday 
seems to spend about as he pleases, but this will 
take a lot of money, and his uncle may not be- 
lieve in the highwaymen’s hidden treasure, and 
think it ’d just be wasted.” 

“It ’s reasonable, of course, that his uncle 
should think such tales mere nonsense; I can’t 
entirely believe in them myself,” said Mr. Wilson. 

“I think we boys might run ' up there and 
see what th^ ’re doin’. I can’t hardly wait,” 
complained Henry J. Friday and Saturday 
jumped up, ready to rush off. 

“The idea of you little skites tagging those 
men!” Mrs. Wilson exclaimed. “We all want 
to know, but I guess we can wait.” 

“Have to anyway, whether we want to or 
not,” Tuesday laughed; they all went back to 
wprk looking a little glum. 

The three men, with Thursday, walked about 
over the ridge and out in the stubble field, stop- 
ping frequently to talk ; they peered over the face 
of the cliff, and after a while went down below, 
out of sight; then they heard the auto going 
off towards the river, and wondered if Thurs- 
day’s uncle was going away without coming to 
see Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. It looked so and 


299 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


again their spirits went down, for they took it 
as a sign that it was the end of everything but 
their own efforts to get at the treasure. 

They were gloomily talking about it as they 
put the horses out for noon, when Thursday ran 
up the hill, leaped the fence, and made for the 
house, yelling for everybody to come, quick ! 

The horses were hastily tied, Monday snatched 
up little Sunday, and Thursday had but just 
dropped upon the porch when the rest rushed up, 
with a perfect babble of questions. 

“I ’m win-ded,” Thursday panted ; “run a 
quarter of mile on the jump, up hill, as soon 
as I was sure!” 

“Sure of what ?” several cried together, while 
they all stared at each other, half afraid to think 
what he might mean. He looked too gay for it 
to be the end of the hunt — was it just that he 
was to go on with the dynamite ? — or — 

“O, but I ’m glad the lid ’s off and I can 
let it out! Hardest time ever! — keeping it in 
till I was sure.” 

“Sure of what ?” “Sure of what ?” “Sure of 
what ?” buzzed about him like an impatient swarm 
of bees. 

“Sure it was found!” Thursday flung this 
astounding bomb with a grin. 

300 


WHAT THE SPOT ON CLUE MEANT 


‘^Found ^^Found !” ^^Found !” ‘Tound 
‘‘Found !” roared, yelled, shrieked, squealed the 
electrified listeners. 

“Not the treasure!'’ Pa Wilson shouted, at- 
tempting to start up despite his crippled leg. 

Thursday nodded silently, his grin expanding, 
the spirit of mischief closing his mouth and shin- 
ing in his eyes. 

“Aw, come now — " Tuesday began, but 
Wednesday interrupted him, saying angrily, “And 
you left us out! took a gang of strangers to — " 
“I suppose you found it underneath, yesterday," 
Monday broke in, stiffly; he, too, was offended, 
and showed it. But he had jumped to the truth 
of the matter. Before Thursday could answer 
him, Saturday yelled: 

“I betche they brought that stuff an' busted 
into the cave when we did n't know ! Come on, 
let 's see !" he was off before his words were out. 

Thursday laughed, and yelled : “Come back 
here, kid ! Do n't you suppose you 'd heard it ? 
They 'd hear that racket clear to the station." 

“He 's just fo-fooling, and he had n’t ou-ought 
to when he-he — know's how we — " Winnie’s 
words trailed into sobs. 

Thursday sprang up and began a shuffle, de- 
manding : “Do you think I ’d fool about such 
301 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


a thing? No! It’s found! found! for sure! 
And O, but I ’m glad I can tell you ; I thought 
it ’d burst out before I knew sure ! — then you 
might ’ve been fooled, but — ” 

‘Why didn’t you know sure?” — “Why 
could n’t you have told us anyhow ?” — “How ’d 
you get into the cave?” — “What is the treasure?” 
—“Where is it?” 

“Hold on! too many questions at once! I 
did n’t get into the cave ! I did n’t know sure 
because I ’m not an expert, and I could n’t have 
told you and have it turn out nothing, could I? 
and I did want uncle to see the cliff. I wired him 
what we wanted to do, and what I thought I ’d 
found, and he hustled up the experts, and they 
all started out in the night — there ’s two expert 
judges, and it’s so! it’s so! The treasure’s 
found! The one the clue means!” 

Thursday whirled about, and threw up his 
hat at the storm that greeted this: “That’s it! 
that ’s it !” he yelled. “Let it out ! Hur — ” 

“No sir, not till we know what for !” Monday 
grabbed him. 

“Shake it out of him — I’ll help!” Wednes- 
day seized him, too. 

“It would n’t hurry him any if you killed 
him,” Ma Wilson smiled. She knew boys pretty 
302 


WHAT THE SPOT ON CLUE MEANT 


well, and though she was trembling herself with 
eagerness, she knew Thursday would take his 
time, being in such a teasing humor. 

“Guess, all of you. Two chances each,” 
Thursday offered, heartlessly. 

“I ’ll never live that long, never !” moaned 
Winnie. 

“Gold!” “Silver!” “Copper!” “Robbers’ 
chest!” “Box of jewels!” — he said no to all. 

“Did you find it down under there, below?” 
Monday asked, thinking it might be a strong 
box. 

Thursday nodded. “And that ’s what was the 
matter, instead of scare at my being so nearly 
smashed with the rock. When I — ” 

“Smashed with a rock! — Mercy! I knew 
some of you — ” 

“O ma, wait ; he did n’t get hurt !” Winnie 
pleaded. “And had you found it when you 
crawled out?” 

“I thought I had, and it rattled me silly to 
think it had been there in plain sight, when you 
was under a bit — ^yet I wasn’t sure enough to 
tell you.” 

“If you do n’t spit it out pretty quick, you ’re 
going to make a big grease spot right here,” 
Tuesday lifted a board threateninglv. 

303 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


“That ’s the best yet !” Thursday exclaimed ; 
“just fits the — ” 

“Is it worth much ?“ Winnie asked, seeing that 
he would not be hurried. 

“Well, I should say!” Thursday roared. 

“A thousand dollars?” Winnie ventured. 

“A thousand nothings ! Go on.” 

“Five thousand?” she quavered. 

“Goon!” 

“Not — not ten thousand?” she faltered. 

“Go on!” 

“Fif-fifteen ?” she demanded, shakily. 

“Go on!” 

“It never could be — be twenty thousand?” 
Winnie panted. 

“Go on!” 

“Twe-nty fi-five, then?” Winnie sobbed. 
Everybody looked and listened in almost breath- 
less silence. 

“You can double that!” 

“Not fif-ty th-thousand ! it can’t be fif-ty thou- 
sand!” Winnie screamed. 

“Yes it can, and three or four times that, 
maybe.” 

Pa Wilson straightened up, all the blood in his 
thin body seeming to rush suddenly to his white 
face, and as suddenly to leave it whiter than 

304 


WHAT THE SPOT ON CLUE MEANT 


ever; Ma Wilson grasped his shaking hands and 
trembled out a caution not ‘‘to be too much ex- 
cited.” 

“This is the end! Name it, young man!” 
Monday turned upon Thursday with blood in 
his eye. 

“Oil! oil! oil! oil! oil!” Thursday caroled, 
waving his arms in time. With a gasp the ten- 
sion broke and comprehension swept away all 
doubt. 

“O, O ! oil ! ma — pa — oil !” Winnie under- 
stood what that meant. Everybody understood, 
and “Oil! Oil! Oil!” bubbled on all sides. 

“Are you sure?” Monday yelled, his question 
mixing with Pa Wilson’s trembling, “Are you 
sure, boy?” “Sure, and no mistake?” echoed 
Ma Wilsom 

“That ’s it ! Now you see for yourselves, the 
first question would ’ve been, ‘Is it sure ?’ I 
thought I knew. I found the oil seepage under- 
neath — got it on my hands; I was studying it 
when the rock started — I could n’t think of any- 
thing else scarcely, though I tried to not let on 
and act different till I could find out. We have 
oil wells ; I ’ve seen plenty of ‘indications’ — I 
thought I knew! — but you see now, I couldn’t 
tell you, could I? — till I knew sure?” he asked 

305 


20 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


the boys, and they saw* that he had felt leaving 
them out, too. 

‘‘Right you could n’t, old man !” they fairly 
hugged him. 

“And just see how plain the clue is,” Thurs- 
day went on. 

Pa Wilson passed the paper over with a shak- 
ing hand, saying, as if to assure himself: 

“The first oil was found by the surface seep- 
age; the pioneers called it Rock Oil, and used it 
as a liniment.” 

“Your old uncle put this spot of oil here — 
it is oil, see! — ^‘You shall have oil to sell and 
keep!’ He meant that drop of oil to tell you.” 

They could all see that now, and wondered 
that they had not discovered it before; but their 
minds had been full of other kinds of treasure. 

Thursday was idly fingering the pamphlet, 
while they looked at the now perfectly plain clue ; 
suddenly he bounced, yelling: 

“O, jiminy cricky! look here! This pamphlet 
is a short description of oil indications, and oil 
finds; right here before our eyes all the while 
was the guide-board to the treasure, and the clue 
to the trail pinned inside! Say, can’t we hire 
somebody to sharpen us up? We need it!” he 
sat with his tongue hanging out, while the rest 
306 


WHAT THE SPOT ON CLUE MEANT 


took in the amazing fact. Soiled and tattered 
by much handling, the pamphlet was, as Thurs- 
day said, the guide-board to the treasure. 

Pa Wilson, examined it, reading a little here 
and there, his bewildered expression giving place 
to one of sheepish chagrin ; finally he knocked on 
his head several times, and shook it sadly, re- 
marking with listless hopelessness, “Nothin’ 
doin’ !” which bit of slang, so unusual and 
ludicrous in him, set them all shouting. 

But immediately Mr. Wilson sobered and 
asked again earnestly, “Is it sure for us, beyond 
the possibility of failure?” 

“Positively, certainly sure for Ma’s Legacy; 
quite sure for Mr. Perkins, and very probable 
for us down in the valley,” Thursday replied. 
“Mr. Perkins is all but standing on his bumped 
head over it! When it was made plain to him, 
like Mr. Wilson, he boiled over in slang. He — 
he — ” Thursday chuckled, “he tried to copy Fri- 
day ; he said, Tt is to laugh !’ ” 

Mr. Perkins would have been proud of the 
effect of his attempt at smartness, had he been 
there. 

“Poor old Uncle Josh 1” Pa Wilson said ; “he 
tried to keep it from Mr. Perkins, and yet wanted 
us to know. He was old and childish; he had 

307 


THE SWOOP OE THE WEEK 


no idea of forming companies, and when his 
little attempts here failed, his one thought seems 
to have been to keep it a secret while Mr. Perkins 
lived for fear he would profit by it.” 

‘‘Yes, poor old uncle! But I don’t think he 
was entirely to blame; Mr. Perkins has an aggra- 
vating tongue, — or did have,” Ma Wilson cor- 
rected herself hastily, remembering the “reforma- 
tion.” 

“But will it help us very soon?” Winnie 
asked ; there were immediate necessities that 
called for relief, if it were possible. 

“You folks can draw on us up to twenty-five 
thousand dollars, this minue. Miss Winnie!” 

Pa Wilson’s eyes stuck out — this was making 
it real! And Winnie cried: “Twenty-five thou- 
sand ! Just a little twenty-five dollars would make 
us feel rich! I guess I can’t think bigger than 
that, all at once ! — we ’ve been pinched so long ! 
O pa ! — O ma !” Winnie suddenly began to sob 
vehemently. 

“We’ll get used to it, dearie,” Ma Wilson 
said; then, as if just realizing it herself, she too 
began to cry, “O pa! pa!” and they both seized 
brave, old pa, their stand-by in joy or sorrow. 

He wrapped his arms around them, petting 
and hushing: “There, there, honeys! Yes ma, 
308 


WHAT THE SPOT ON CLUE MEANT 


miaybe we ’ll get used to it — ^but, like Winnie, I 
can’t think so big right away !” He took a worn 
nickel from his pocket : ‘‘That ’s all I ’ve had 
for months. I ’ve been hanging on to it so I 
could feel that we wasn’t entirely penniless; I 
ought to stand treat — it ’s such a lot,” he laughed 
whimsically. 

“I wish the Week could have it, sir, in com- 
mon as a souvenir,” Monday said. 

“O fine! fine!” Thursday exclaimed; “we’d 
put it—” 

The smaller boys had been grumbling to each 
other, dissatisfied and disgusted at this common- 
place ending to the thrilling search for the treas- 
ure. What was greasy old oil to mysterious pas- 
sages, and dark, delightful caverns, stored with 
glittering robbers’ hoards? They felt deeply in- 
jured and cheated, and their indignation boiled 
over in an interruption to Thursday ’s enthusiastic 
exclamation: 

“But say!” Henry J. demanded, “ain’t we 
goin’ to hunt for the cave — ” — “An’ the robbers’ 
hoards?” put in Friday. “Ain’t we goin’ to blow 
up the clif¥?” — Saturday drew back, ready to 
fight anybody against such a calamity. 

“You bet — yes! yes! yes! to everything!” 
Thursday replied with inspiring certainty. “The 

309 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


oil is a different matter — it’s the treasure the 
clue means, all right ; but there ’s the highwaymen 
stories, and the tales of the hiddai money and 
things — I believe all of them ! We know there ’s 
a cave in the cliff, and we ’re going on and break 
in, same as if the treasure hadn’t been found. 
“That is,” he added, “if the folks ’ll let us.” 

“Go on, go on!” Pa and Ma WiLson cried 
together. 

“I want to find out about it, myself,” pa added, 
with a boyish grin. 

“O pa, you’re so satisfying!” Winnie said; 
“I don’t see how we could give up breaking 
into the cave now, and never know what ’s in 
it. We can pay Thursday — ” 

“Pay nothin’!” Thursday snorted; “I want 
to go on with it myself ; I want to see what ’s 
in the cave, too. Uncle is willing, and he’ll 
send a man to manage the dynamite, and not 
let us blow ourselves up; but we’re going to 
have the fun’ of rummaging the cave — all of us — 
and finding the highwaymen’s stealings, and we 
must n’t let Pa Wilson beat us at it, either. I ’d 
like the chance to buy one of the swords, and 
things like that, when there’s more than you 
folks want.” 


310 


WHAT THE SPOT ON CLUE MEANT 


‘‘Of course, you can have anything you want 
Ma Wilson said. 

“Of course!” pa declared, laughing. “But 
we’d better not go too fast on dividing up. It 
is n’t likely there ’ll be any swords. Highwaymen 
used the old-fashioned horse-pistols, did n’t they ? 
— as well as everybody else in those days.” 

“Then there ’d be pistols to divide,” Winnie 
said. 

“Well, if your uncle is going to see to you, 
I won’t be worried,” Ma Wilson sighed her re- 
lief. 

“Uncle ’ll tell you himself that there ’ll be no 
danger,” Thursday assured her. “They ’re all 
coming up to talk oil this afternoon, when they ’ve 
looked over uncle’s place down there and found 
its lines — corner stones, you know,” he grinned at 
the boys. 

“Why, you go straight and tell those men I 
say for them to come up to dinner,” Mrs. Wilson 
commanded, suddenly remerubering the calls of 
hospitality. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson,” Thursday re- 
turned; “they have a big hamper; but Mr. Per- 
kins has taken possession of them. He vowed 
he could put a fry on chicken that would beat 

311 


THE SWOOP OF THE WEEK 


any of the city cooks, and they promised to test 
it with him.” 

“I ’ll warrant he can cook,” she laughed. 
“Well, we must all have dinner right off, and get 
it out of the way. It ’s late now ;” she started to 
the kitchen, but fluttered back to pat pa again 
and ask him if it was really true about all that 
money? And an instant after she had disap- 
peared, she ran back to declare gratefully: 

“It all comes from those boys — bless ’em ! — 
swooping down on old Ma’s Legacy!” 

“That ’s sure as shooting !” 

Pa grabbed his fiddle, and the gay little swoop 
tune laughed and hurrahed and rollicked over the 
strings; while Winnie, Henry J., and the whole 
Week, suddenly transformed into a company of 
nimble acrobats, laughed and hurrahed and rol- 
licked with it : 

“ ’T was the swoop of the Week, 

Of the jolly old Week! 

*T was the swo-o-op, ’t was the swo-o-op, 

’T was the swoop of the jolly old Week. Ki-yi! ** 

The boys all clapped and cheered, pa broke 
his G-string, and Winnie tumbled over, a laugh- 
ing, shrieking heap, when Ma Wilson ran in from 
the kitchen, the happy tears splashing her cheeks, 
waved her dish-cloth wildly, and gurgled a quav- 
ering, “Ki-yi!” 


312 



MAR 1 13)3 



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